Bells Are Gonna Chime
by Child of Loki
Summary: In which Christopher LaSalle and Meredith Brody find it exceedingly difficult to get hitched. Will they persevere? Or will they begin to question whether they're meant to be together at all? Cherri. Sequel to 'Deal of a Lifetime' (but can be read as stand alone.)
1. Attempt 1: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: New Orleans or its characters… (obviously)**

 **Author's Note: I've never written a wedding-themed fic before, or ended my shippy fan fiction romances with them, because well, I find them a little bit too cliché. But I'd also avoided writing Holiday-themed fics and had never tried the 'five times' style before I was drawn into writing LaSalle/Brody ('Cherri'). So why the hell not go there? See what I can do with the old Wedding Trope…**

 **UNIVERSE/SPOILERS: So this is a sequel to** _ **Deal of a Lifetime**_ **which was begun mid-season one, and became AU for the end of season one. In other words, Chris and Savannah never became serious and she was never murdered in the universe in which this fic takes place. Otherwise, this runs sort of parallel to season two, will take in elements of the canon, such as Percy being added to the team, etc.**

 ***Special Thanks to Marjorie K. Place for bouncing around ideas with me***

* * *

 **FIRST ATTEMPT: A TRADITIONAL CHURCH WEDDING**

 **Chapter 1: Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something…** _ **Missing**_

A bride dressed in white, looking somewhat terrified stared back at her. The gown was satin and shimmered like a pearl in the light that streamed in through the tall, narrow windows. White hardly seemed appropriate for her to be wearing. No one thought she was a virgin. And everyone knew what she and the bridegroom had been getting up to over the past year. Well, she supposed they might not know, just suspect about their activities prior to their moving in together. But either way, white was hardly an appropriate color for her to be wearing to a traditional church wedding.

"Stop fidgeting." A much shorter bridesmaid appeared beside the woman erroneously dressed in white. She was the newest addition to their little team-family. Pride had brought her in from the ATF since she'd been looking for a change and Director Vance's recent edict was that there was far too much fraternizing happening between NCIS agents and romantically involved persons could not be partners in the field. They could still work in the same office, however. Agent Sonja Percy had instantly fit in, and been included in the wedding party. Her dress was lilac. And not very pretty. It seemed like ugly bridesmaids dresses were entirely unavoidable, no matter how hard they'd tried. "You look absolutely gorgeous, Brody, and you know it. So quit flaunting it in our faces."

Merri smoothed the dress over her front. Not that it needed smoothing. It sat perfectly on her figure, clung to it really. Well, she may be falsely wearing white, but at least there was something appropriately risqué about the cut of her dress. It was styled like a slinky vintage 1930s evening gown, with bare shoulders, crisscrossing pleats molding it to her chest and waist, accentuating the 'mature woman' curves of her body. So, she didn't entirely look like the naive young bride she most certainly was not.

"Aren't you supposed to be nice to a bride on her wedding day, Percy?" Merri turned to the younger woman, smiling at her in thanks for being her normal snarky self, a welcome distraction to the butterflies in the bride-to-be's stomach. If she wasn't careful, Merri might be making a trip to the bathroom to disgorge her breakfast.

"She is right, though," Loretta said, beaming at the two women. "You are a vision, Merri."

The older woman placed her hands on Merri's shoulders, and she obligingly leaned in, allowing her friend to air-kiss her cheeks. Didn't want to mess up her make-up this close to show-time, after all.

Sonja glared jealously at the coroner's attire. Somehow, Loretta Wade made her lilac gown look elegant and sophisticated. Merri hadn't wanted bridesmaids. Hadn't wanted a traditional church wedding. She would much rather be standing in front of a justice of the peace with their little NCIS family as witnesses. But it was a concession she'd made, not to Chris, but for Chris, for his family. In particular, for his mother. And she honestly didn't care how it was done. Only that it was done.

Okay, so she was sort of being eager to please Mrs. LaSalle. Not that the woman was difficult. She was a very kind, very effusive (it was apparent where Chris got it from) soul. Only, ever since she found out that Merri was an older woman, eight years older than her son, there was something different in the way she treated his fiancée. It wasn't purposeful or malicious, but Merri could tell she was disappointed. She had probably thought, had outright said it, that Merri looked maybe 35 at the oldest. Normally, it was a beneficial thing, a flattering one, possessing good genetics and health that made her look younger than she was. But, his mother must know as well as Merri did, that Chris wanted kids, as many of them as he could get. And being realistic, she could maybe give him two pregnancies, and they might be complicated as it were. And that was only if they started right away.

They'd discussed it, of course. Merri had never been opposed to having children in her life. Her lifestyle had just never seemed appropriate for having them, however. When she'd been engaged to James, children had been in their plans, as a far off in the future, several years down the road, sort of thought. But the reality of her biological clock now was that if they wanted children, she and Chris had to make a solid plan. He wanted to wait just a little while, to enjoy married life for a few months without the pressures of trying to get pregnant straining their marriage, or her being as sick as a dog with a pregnancy. She'd agreed, although they already knew how to live together peaceably... more than peaceably.

Unfortunately, she'd accidentally destroyed that plan. Just that morning she'd discovered what she'd unintentionally done, when she'd gone searching for their damn Wedding Binder with all of the involved parties' contact numbers (because why would she clog up her phone with the numbers of florists and caterers and the like?). Anyway, she'd found it alright, dislodging a large stack of wedding-related paperwork, and apparently buried in the midst of it, the refill of her birth control she'd forgotten about. With all of the wedding insanity, she'd forgotten it had run out. How stupid was that?! She marked it on the calendar, set a reminder on her phone. But of course, she hadn't dealt with it immediately and promptly it was pushed to the back of her mind and buried under a deluge. She'd tried to remember the last time she'd had her period, realized she was over a week late, checked when her birth control ran out, determined she could be up to three weeks pregnant, and promptly had a panic attack.

And just as promptly, stopped. If she was pregnant, it wasn't at all a bad thing. In all honesty, Merri more than a little suspected that Chris had insisted they wait a few months before they started trying, just to not seem eager, to not place pressure on her. He'd be absolutely giddy at the news of a possible pregnancy. And it occurred to her that it would be the perfect gift for her husband on their wedding night.

Merri caught herself, stopping her hand before she could caress her still flat-as-ever belly in a telling way as she studied herself in the full-length mirror. Not in front of Loretta and Sonja. And certainly not in front of the other bridesmaid, Chris' sister, Cassie. (Apparently Chris' mother had been an alliterative namer.) She would doubtlessly surmise the truth if Merri let any sign show. Cassandra Blake had two kids of her own. And the woman's dark blue eyes, so disconcertingly familiar to find in a face that didn't belong to Merri's lover, were far too clever by half as she assessed her sister-in-law-to-be's appearance.

Brandishing a bobby pin, Cassie reached up and caught a stray, disobedient curl pinning it to the side of Merri's head. She'd been growing her hair out, just for a change (not because Chris had said anything, but he did seem to like running his fingers through the longer locks quite a bit now that she had them). And Cassie had meticulously styled it up with little white silk roses for the wedding. When she had offered to do her hair and make-up for the wedding. Merri wasn't sure if her lover's older sister was just being courteous or if she actually wanted to. Chris had insisted to Merri when she ran it by him that his sister wouldn't have suggested it if she didn't want to do it, and so the bride had decided some bonding time with her soon-to-be-sister-in-law was probably a good idea.

Cassie stood back, giving Merri a complete once over.

"Perfect," she said with a smile. "Chris is lucky, Merri. You are as gorgeous as you are smart."

Merri blushed, squirmed. This was too much. She much preferred Sonja's snarky remarks, although hers had been back-handed compliments, too. Being the center of attention like this… Merri didn't especially like it. But she supposed it was her wedding day, so she'd better just suck it up and get used to being spoiled and fawned over. Yuck.

She'd already been taken through all of the traditions she didn't actually care about, Sonja being slightly on the superstitious side tracking down a charm that fulfilled all of the criteria of 'something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue.' Actually, it had been sweet and perfect. It was the necklace she was wearing, the silver chain was old and borrowed (taken from a pendant necklace that Loretta's mother had left to her) and the teardrop sapphire was something new (a gift from Percy) and blue. Merri self-consciously touched it, not that it needed adjusting. It sat perfectly centered on her chest an inch below her collarbones and a couple inches above the neckline of her dress.

There was a rap on the door. And Chris' drawl came through, slightly muffled by the wood, asking to see Merri.

"Hold on," Sonja said, placing her petite body against the door. "Can't ya wait fifteen minutes and then you two will be hitched, and you'll be seein' her everyday for the rest of your lives."

Cassie joined the small, feisty bridesmaid at the door, grabbing the handle and further preventing it from being opened.

"Chris, you know you're not supposed to see her before the ceremony," his older sister scolded.

"I need ta speak ta her."

There was something, a slight urgency in her fiancé's tone that raised the hairs on the exposed back of Merri's neck. She rushed to the door, Sonja and Cassie parting to let her lean her forehead against the heavy wood. She would probably leave a foundation smudge on the white paint of the door, for she wasn't used to wearing so much make-up, even though it was tastefully done. But it was difficult to care, because there'd been an edge of distress to Chris' tone.

"What's wrong?" Merri asked.

"King's not here. And no one can get ahold of him. Not even Laurel."

Her stomach hollowed out, apparently trying to crawl out of her throat. She attempted to swallow down the lump that had lodged around her voice box.

"What were his plans? Has someone checked the office?" Loretta asked.

There was no way in hell Dwayne Pride would be late for his agents' wedding, that he wouldn't be there to stand up beside his surrogate son as he got married.

"He was supposed to meet us here over an hour ago. I can't imagine any banal reason for him to be late," Chris said. And Merri instantly took his meaning. He wasn't going to send a civilian to check on the man. Because something serious had to be wrong. An untrained person could be walking into trouble they couldn't handle.

"Agreed," Merri said, pushing a protesting Cassie aside with a quiet apology and opening the door. She took a breathless moment to admire her bridegroom. He was extremely smartly dressed in a three-piece black suit and a blue tie that brought out the sparkle in his eyes, a lilac boutonnière tucked into the buttonhole on his lapel. His suit was just fitted enough to be immensely flattering to his fit figure.

"You clean up nice," she commented.

Chris blinked. "So do you."

"Let's go find our missing Best Man," she said, taking his hand and tugging gently, snapping him out of the appreciative stare he'd been giving her white silk-clad body.

* * *

 **A/N: Couldn't help myself... Had to throw potentially Pregnant!Brody into the mix, while I was entertaining the romance tropes anyway. ;-)**


	2. Attempt 1: Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Although I did squeeze in some elements I quite enjoyed.**

* * *

 **FIRST ATTEMPT: A TRADITIONAL CHURCH WEDDING**

 **Chapter 2: Every bride is an angel on her wedding day.**

He'd frantically scrubbed his hands clean in the hospital restroom, but there was crusted blood laying in some of the superfine cracks and creases of his skin, a stark contrast of rusty crimson against the white knuckles of his tightly clenched fists. He was gripping the steering wheel so fiercely that his fingers had begun to go numb. And there was no reason for it, since he'd already brought the truck to a stop and cut the engine. They weren't driving anywhere, just sitting there, outside a run-down house.

But the alternative, he supposed was to punch out the driver's side window or find something else to smash. Just as clenching his teeth was the only alternative to screaming in rage.

Chris LaSalle had never considered himself to be a man with a bad tempter. But he had never been so downright furious before. This, which was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, had turned out to be the most enraging. Rather than exchanging vows with the woman he loved, he'd had his hands drenched in his best man's -his best friend's- blood. Holding his suit jacket to the gushing wound in the older man's stomach as Merri made an urgent call for an ambulance, her voice so calm that Chris knew she'd simply shut down her emotional self to avoid the pain and fear.

Three hours in surgery and an uncertain prognosis, a small wedding's worth of guests all dressed in formal wear sitting in pensive silence in the OR waiting room. Laurel crying quietly, being held in first Loretta's then Merri's arms, then passed off to Loretta again, when finally their absent members contacted them, informing them they'd found the bastard who'd shot their boss-friend-mentor-father-figure and left him for dead.

Thank god, the asshole had been an idiot. Amateur hour at its best. He hadn't used a kill shot on Pride. Hadn't checked to make sure the man was dead. Had left prints behind. And was currently sitting at his own personal computer in his own home, trying to claim the reward those anarchist militia bastards had placed on King's head.

"Ya sure it's him? He's in there?" Chris asked.

/100% guaranteed that the creep who shot Pride is in the house. I'm pretendin' to be the contact for the bounty, stallin' him as we speak./

Patton Plame's normally cheerful tone was all business at the moment. Chris exchanged a look with the passenger sitting beside him, his angelically beautiful bride, who should've been his wife by now. Merri's expression was strained, much like he imagined his own was, a mixture of sorrow, pain and unadulterated fury.

And determination.

"Thanks, Patton," she said, terminating the call before reaching for one of Chris' hands. He let his death grip relax, his hands slip from the steering wheel, interlacing his fingers with hers, feeling the reassuring warmth and strength of her slender hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the smooth skin along her knuckles.

"Let's do this," she said.

* * *

Luckily, Chris kept some tac gear in the box in the bed of his truck. The metal locker was generally used for carpenters, construction workers, electricians and the like to store tools. But no one had said it couldn't be used to store the tools of his trade. He got up into the bed, adding a couple more stains to his tuxedo pants, and unlocked the metal storage container. He handed his bride one of the bullet-proof vests. It wasn't her oddly form-fitting one (that he wondered where the hell she'd obtained a woman's tailored Kevlar vest, that they even made that sort of thing), but she slipped it on without complaint, even as it visibly crushed her large breasts when she tightened it enough to lay snug against her abdomen. He exchanged his suit vest for his own Kevlar one, making quick work of the straps before reaching for his shotgun and package of shells.

"You got another one of those?"

He looked down at Merri, slightly confused. She always preferred her Glock. Precision, she said. Might as well be waving a large stick with nails around with a blunt instrument like a shotgun. He raised his eyebrows at her in a questioning look.

"I feel like using a blunt object."

He shrugged. He could sympathize. Someone had hurt King. It was unacceptable. They would be punished severely.

"Yes, I sure do," he said with a grin.

"I need a thigh holster, too. And a knife."

God, his woman knew how to gear up. He watched in utter shock as she unsheathed the combat knife and took it to the hem of her thousand-dollar wedding dress, placing a small cut in the cloth near her right ankle. Her skilled (in so many ways that he was very familiar with) hands took hold of the fabric and proceeded to rip the dress up to her hip, exposing one of her gorgeous legs, which was currently clad in a filmy white stocking being held up by a garter belt. A lace one, from the peak he had of it at her hip. He licked his suddenly dry lips, as he watched her fasten the contrastingly black, coarse webbing around her toned thigh and secure her Glock in the holster. When she was done she straightened and reached a hand out to him, but he could only manage to stare at her blankly.

"Chris," she said impatiently. "Gun."

He shook himself out of the temporary trance his sexy bride had placed him in, and handed her the shotgun, and a belt of spare shells. She shrugged the strip of shotgun shells on over her shoulder bandolier-style, pumped one into the chamber of the gun, and stared at him expectantly.

Chris had never seen anything so downright _hot_ in his entire life as Meredith Brody, wearing a silk wedding dress that hugged her curves and was torn up one side to her hip, revealing a leg erotically clad in white nylon, lacy garter and gun holster, sporting a black bullet-proof vest and wielding a shotgun in her freshly manicured (a pre-wedding indulgence) hands. Her artistically swept up and pinned hair was somehow still impeccable, little silk flowers and all.

Despite all of the anger and anxiety over King's being attacked and severely wounded, Chris found himself growing quite hard over the sight of his would-be-bride in all her badassery.

He'd have been laughing or dancing with his wife right now (or dragging her off someplace for a different sort of adrenaline-fueled, the blissful, happy kind of adrenaline-fueled, quickie), if this dumb bastard hadn't gone after his friend, interrupting his wedding and hurting the man he loved like family.

"Ya ruined your dress," he observed as he hopped down from the bed of the truck.

"It was already stained with blood and tears," Merri said flatly, which instantly sobered both of their moods.

"Let's get this bastard," Chris said.

* * *

He'd heard it said that 'every bride is an angel on her wedding day'.

And Chris had to agree. Merri Brody was an angel. The blood-spattered avenging variety, that was. And that was fine by him. He couldn't love her any less for protecting her friends so fiercely, for being able and willing to fight for them, for him. Having a partner in life that he knew would have his back through thick and thin, through burnt casseroles and leaky pipes, house payments they couldn't quite afford, and gun fights with murdering bastards... It gave a man a sense of security money couldn't buy. Only love could.

And so it was easy to kick down the front door and stride blindly into potentially deadly circumstances as his badass bride circled around the back of the house, ensuring their prey would not escape them. He cleared the front room, hearing his partner's voice announce her own progress over the coms they'd hastily stuck in their ears, as she mirrored his movements, pushing ever closer in towards one another. He'd forgotten how easily they worked together in the field, an experience he hadn't had the pleasure of since announcing their engagement and being banned from doing this sort of raid together anymore. He saw the flash of white and black as she crossed the end of the narrow hall he was currently slowly progressing down one careful step at a time, trying not to hit a creaky floorboard in the old house.

Not that they had to worry. There was offensively loud techno music coming from behind one of the doors, vibrating it in its hinges and rattling the cracked glass pictures against the wall. It took him a minute or two, clearing a couple empty (but for piles of junk) rooms but Chris soon pinpointed the offending door. He put his back to the wall beside it, waited for Merri to arrive after clearing her end of the building. God, she was a gorgeous disparity, her formal wear overlain with tactical gear, a bright spot, almost glowing in the hallway with faded, grimy wall paper and a waterline the owners had never even attempted to scrub clean after the flooding. Her mouth was set in a firm line, her beautiful eyes all business as she adjusted her grip on the shotgun, and maneuvered into position to cover him when he breached the door.

She gave him a nod, and he gently pushed on the slightly ajar wood, until a scrawny, shirtless man came into view. He was sitting at a desk, parked in front of a laptop, typing away, doubtless trying to convince the man he thought controlled the bounty on Pride's head to pony up the cash. But he was in actuality chatting with Patton, whom was serving as distraction for the shotgun-wielding bride and groom who were about to put some serious hurt on the would-be-assassin's pathetic, bony butt.

Chris glanced back at his blushing bride. He thought perhaps the term wasn't meant to be applied to the flush put on her cheeks by adrenaline and determined ferocity. But he found it extremely fetching on her nonetheless.

'One suspect inside,' Chris mouthed at her and she nodded again. Go-Time.

A quick application of his foot to the door and it swung open, not quite hitting the interior wall for all of the debris on the floor slowing its momentum, but it was enough for Chris to move inside swinging around to clear the left side of the room as Merri came in directly behind him, covering the right. Their suspect barely had time to jump in his wooden shaker-style chair before she'd stepped forward firmly grabbing the back of it and yanking hard, causing the scrawny, shirtless man to tumble backward along with the piece of furniture. His landing upon the old, wide floorboards would've been a lot harder if he hadn't landed in a pile of discarded, obviously dirty clothing. Chris briefly thanked God he had Merri diligently straightening out his bachelor ways, or else he wasn't so sure he wouldn't've one day wound up like this creep, wallowing in his own filth. And if he ever slipped, he couldn't blame her for doing precisely what she was now to the pathetic asshole who'd shot their friend.

Merri placed the toe of her dirty, stained white satin shoe under the perp's side, drew it back and half-kicked, half-pushed the man, forcing him to roll over as she shouted at him to get onto his stomach and place his hands on the back of his head.

"What the hell? Who the hell are you?" The prone man shouted, finally overcoming his shock enough to grow angry, glaring up at the woman dressed like the Bride of Rambo. His slate-grey eyes bugged out of his head as he took in the sight of his assailants. Chris had to admit, Merri did look quite terrifying at the moment, brandishing the shotgun and a malevolent grin, her torn wedding dress spattered with blood. She was also flashing more than a little bare skin and a shapely, shapely leg. Something was probably wrong with him, but fuck, he just couldn't get over how hot it was.

"NCIS," Merri said. "You shot our friend and ruined our wedding day. And now you're going to pay for it."

Chris forced his eyes up from the creamy naked skin visible between stocking, garter and thigh holster, alarmed a little by her words and tone of voice. But her eyes were as sharp, cool and collected as ever when she was in agent-mode. She wasn't about to do something... _illegal_. Not that he would blame her for it, or wouldn't help her cover it up. Hell, he knew several places where they could dump the body. He was about to say as much when Merri began reading their prisoner his Miranda Rights.

"I'm placing you under arrest for the attempted murder of NCIS Special Agent Dwayne Pride. You have the right to remain silent..."

Chris wrenched the man's hands behind his back, putting the cuffs on a little tighter than strictly necessary, before hauling the failed assassin to his feet. Yes. _Attempted_ Murder. _Failed_ Assassin. The doctors might not yet be confident enough to tell family and friends that Pride would make a full recovery. But he and Merri, they knew how tough the man was, knew that he'd be okay.

Because there was no way Dwayne Pride would miss their wedding.

* * *

They both stood in front of his truck for a few moments, puzzling over what to do next as they held the prisoner between them, Chris toting the perp's laptop (all the evidence they needed) under his other arm. There were so many reasons that they wouldn't be putting him with them in the cab of the truck. And there was no way they'd call the authorities and hand him over. He was _theirs_.

"We can throw 'im in the back," Chris suggested, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"What's to prevent this piece of trash from jumping out?" Merri said, giving their pathetic charge a glare and firm shake.

"Cuff him ta the box?"

Merri seemed to ponder this for a moment, then gave a little shrug of her bare shoulders. Chris opened the tailgate, then together they picked up the scrawny man. How had the pathetic creature ever gotten the jump on King? It just wasn't right, but the seasoned agent could hardly have been expecting to be shot in the back, a through and through in his lower abdomen while he was getting ready to go see his friends married off. Said friends tossed the sorry-excuse for an assassin, sorry excuse for a man in Chris' opinion, quite a bit more roughly than strictly necessary into the bed of the truck, garnering a loud thump as the vehicle rocked and the prisoner moaned that they'd dislocated his shoulder. Chris jumped up and secured the man before he and Merri got back into the cab of the truck and sat there in a silence that was as heavy and smothering as a wool blanket.

And it all seemed rather anticlimactic, taking their perpetrator down so easily. But he should be thankful that it hadn't been a difficult apprehension, that it hadn't been violent or messy, that no one had been hurt. No one _else_ had been hurt. Just King, the man who had saved his life a decade ago, had taken in him and treated him like a son, and a friend, had taught him everything there was to know about being an honorable man, about living a meaningful life. No, it was only Pride lying in the hospital, fighting for his life.

He tried to start the truck but his hands were shaking too badly. It was as if he'd been holding back all of his emotions, focusing on the anger, using it to shore up the dam. And now that he'd succeeded in his mission, he'd captured the man who'd hurt King, the dam had broken. And the deluge was too much.

"Chris?"

The very brief-lived inner battle between hiding his sorry state from his bride and turning to her for the absolute comfort that only she seemed able to bestow, was cut short by Merri's concerned voice. He turned to her, and she was already enfolding him in her arms, cradling him against her as he added more tears to the stained satin of her formerly white wedding dress. She rubbed his back, kissed the top of his head as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him, pressing his cheek to her chest and letting the steady rhythm of her heartbeat soothe him.

When he'd finally calmed and straightened, feeling a nascent cramp in his back and neck from the odd angle of cuddling, he found himself staring into his bride's tear-stained cheeks. Guilt stabbed him in the heart. How could he not realize what she'd been doing. She'd been so intent on having his back, protecting him as he went off half-cocked on his mission of vengeance, comforting him when his heartache finally got the best of him... Merri had been suppressing all of her own feelings to take care of him.

"Oh, darlin'..." He cupped her face in his hands, swiped the wetness from her cheeks, stared into her deep chocolate eyes. And then they were kissing, a hungry, life-affirming embrace. Not sexual. But not chaste either. Just purposeful, searching and finding, confirming the lifelong bond they'd forged. Their love. When they finally broke apart, there was a slight smile curving Merri's lips, and her eyes no longer seemed so sad.

"As soon as King's back on his feet," Chris said. "We're havin' a redo."

Merri sighed as he started the truck, picking at the ragged slit she'd added to her wedding gown.

"I'm going to need a new dress."

"Nah." Chris winked at her. "That's the perfect one."

She narrowed her eyes at him, obviously recognizing his twisted sense of humor when it was about to be deployed.

"What?" He flashed her his most charming of grins. "It suits ya."

"It suits me?" He glanced at her as he drove, feeling relieved to have this normal playful moment with the woman he loved, but also a little guilty given everything that had happened that day.

"Yup. Classy and stylish, but also completely badass. Ya've gotta accessorize with the shotgun, though."

Merri laughed. And the sound made his heart a thousand times lighter. Yes, they should've been husband and wife, celebrating their union with their friends at this very moment. But life was never what you expected. And it had led him to her. So, in the end, he couldn't stay angry with the universe. And what did it matter if they were married? It didn't change much of anything, just a few legalities.

"Not traditional for the bride to be the one armed, but we can give the Shotgun Wedding thing a try," she said. "Pride might get a kick out of it."

"Yeah. He will."

* * *

 **A/N: I think there is probably one more chapter to this 'attempt' to wrap up loose ends... But I was hoping to avoid writing a hospital scene. They get tiresome/repetitive after a while... And then we'll see if they can make it down the aisle on their next attempt.**


	3. Attempt 2

**Author's Note: This attempt apparently wanted to be a one-shot. It didn't make sense to break it up. And if I forced it to be longer, I think it would've bordered on melodramatic, dragging on too long.**

* * *

 **SECOND ATTEMPT: ANOTHER TRADITIONAL CHURCH WEDDING...**

Oh dear lord. Why would anyone do this more than once?!

Merri reached for the edge of the sink countertop, got a firm grip and used it to pull herself to her feet, leaning over to flush what had been her breakfast down the toilet. It didn't help that Chris' baby had a craving for junk food to rival its father. She knew she'd be hungry again in less than an hour, since she hadn't much chance to digest the meal she'd just regurgitated. And it would be a craving for something terribly innutritious like half a dozen beignets, heavy on the sugar coating.

Thankfully, the morning sickness had just come on during the past week. She'd hoped to avoid the pregnancy symptom altogether, but at least they'd been so busy with the Wedding Redo, Chris hadn't caught her hugging the toilet or curled up on the relievedly cool tile of the bathroom floor. Or gone all pale in a cold sweat with the nausea.

It had been six weeks since their first failed wedding, since she'd discovered she might be pregnant. A doctor's appointment confirmed her suspicions. She was now eight weeks along, and desperate just to get the ceremony over with so that she could tell Chris the good news. She wasn't sure why she'd fixated like she had, but she wanted to tell him on their wedding night. Her waistline was still its normal width, but that wouldn't last much longer. And being busy with helping Pride in his recovery and reorganizing their wedding, he'd been distracted enough not to notice the small changes in her.

He'd only once mentioned the fact that she'd stopped having a glass of wine every other day, and she'd said she was trying to cut back, since she thought her new wedding dress was sized on the small side. She'd cut back on the coffee, too, but was having a difficult time giving it up altogether. Besides, he would definitely notice if she stopped that addiction cold turkey.

The guilt for not telling him was beginning to nag at her. But she really, really wanted it to be a surprise, to see his face light up in that beautiful way, his dark blue eyes glowing at her, looking at her like she were the very center of his universe, like she made life worth living. He loved her so much that she sometimes was afraid she could never return it in equal measure even though she gave him all of her heart. His was simply bigger.

And it would only grow larger to encompass their child, too, she knew.

She rinsed her mouth with water from the tap, then wet a washcloth and applied it to her face, reveling in the cool relief of it. She straightened and staring into the mirror, looked herself in the eye, giving herself a little pep talk.

"You've got this, Merri."

She let her hand slip down over her belly, cradling the peanut-sized fetus nestled in her womb.

"Behave yourself today, little one. No untimely disruptions. Or you will be a bastard in every definition of the word.

"Pardon my language," she added, supposing it was never too early to start policing herself.

Chris was off seeing to his list of last minute preparations... luckily left before his baby decided her stomach should reject the lovely breakfast he had made for her. Really, for an unborn infant with an apparent sweet tooth and affinity for fatty, salty foods, she thought the pancakes and bacon heavy with maple syrup would've had better luck at staying down than something like fruit and yogurt or granola cereal.

But alas, no luck.

She'd have to pick up something while she ran her own errands. Things like caterers, reception halls and the like, didn't return deposits even when the excuse for cancelling was that one of the bridal party had been shot and left for dead by an inept assassin trying to claim a bounty placed by an anarchist militia conglomerate... (how organizing on that level fit with anarchy, she wasn't sure.) But anyway, they were doing things a little simpler, and putting in a lot more of the work themselves. She would've said to hell with it. Let's just go down to the courthouse. But for some stupid reason, she was still trying to make LaSalle's family happy. Merri was pretty certain the presently bothersome nascent life form inhabiting her belly would take care of that, as soon as they announced she was pregnant. But that would definitely have to wait. At 41, she was trying to be cautiously optimistic about the pregnancy that was still in early days. But she was healthy, and her OBGYN had given her an extremely positive outlook. Impending mothers of any age in as good health as her had less to worry about for complications. Most of the trouble for women past their prime child-bearing years in good health was getting pregnant in the first place. Which, apparently, hadn't been a problem, considering given the dates, she'd only been off birth control for less than a week when she'd conceived. Granted, that could've contained upwards of a dozen 'tries', though.

There were any number of benefits to having a younger fiancé, besides the fact that she loved him more than anyone else she'd ever met in her life. Looking at it from a removed standpoint, Chris was the perfect age for a lover. Young enough that he still had excellent physical stamina. But experienced enough to have patience and skill. They could draw one session out for blissful hours or go several rounds a night. And sometimes they both were more than content to simply cuddle up and sleep in each other's arms.

Either way, it really wasn't any surprise. If anyone could get her pregnant in her waning childbearing years, it would be Chris. Then again, her great grandmother had popped out a steady stream of babies well into her fifties. Maybe she'd inherited those fertile genes. Although she wasn't so certain she wanted to be in a near constant state of pregnancy.

A couple kids would be nice, though. Especially raising them with Chris.

Merri let herself begin to grow excited for their Wedding Redo. It was going to be a good day, with friends and family. Seeing Pride back on his feet in fighting trim- well, maybe not _fighting_ trim but back to his old energetic, expansive self. And at the end of the day, she would fall asleep in her husband's arms, warm and safe and happy, their baby growing inside of her.

Changing out the Johnny Cash record on the turn table for her vintage Wanda Jackson album, Merri cranked up the stereo system to an inadvisable level and danced and sang her way through her morning preparations. She was feeling in an upbeat mood. Rockabilly somehow seemed appropriate.

* * *

Chris whistled to himself as he approached the shop that was tucked in amongst an antique book store, a bakery specializing in cupcakes and a number of other random small businesses.

"Aw, Mr. LaSalle," Candice, a pretty olive-skinned woman in her twenties gave him a broad smile when he entered the shop, the doorbell chiming and alerting the owner to his presence. "It's the Big Day today, huh?"

"Hopefully," He said, and preempted her question as to what exactly that meant by giving her his own grin, adding "An' I tole ya ta call me Chris."

"Yes, sir," she said saluting. He chuckled and shook his head.

"I work for NCIS," he said. "I ain't in the Navy."

She winked, indicating that she had understood his awkward explanation when she'd initially asked him what he did and then gave him a blank look when he'd said he worked for NCIS. He'd made a note just to say he was a federal agent the next time someone asked.

"I'll just get your special item, shall I?" she said, disappearing into the back room of the shop. Candice returned with a small white satin box adorned with a purple bow. Setting it on the counter top, she popped it open and turned it towards him so he could inspect it, and he leaned over to give it the obligatory examination.

"Well, what do you think?" the artisan asked, literally bouncing on her toes in anticipation.

"You sure do some beautiful work, Candice," Chris said, genuinely appreciative of what she'd done with his request.

"You like it?" Yup. Definitely an artist, needing reassurance.

"It's perfect," Chris said giving her a smile, about to ask what the damage was when his phone went off. He gave the young woman an apologetic grin. "Prob'ly somethin' wedding related."

He pulled the ringing cell from his pocket, hitting the answer button without even checking the caller ID and raising it to his ear.

"LaSalle."

/Christopher LaSalle?/ He didn't recognize the voice. Maybe it was the florists or the caterers or something. But they would've called Merri before him. Unless they couldn't get a hold of her for some reason.

"Yes..."

/Your brother is Cade LaSalle?/

Oh, shit.

"Yes. What's this about?"

/This is Sergeant Harris down at City Lock-up. Your brother got picked up on a drunk and disorderly last night. He was pretty passive then, three-sheets-to-the-wind an' all. But since coming 'round this morning he's been kickin' up quite a fuss. Mentioned his brother was a fed, and we looked into it, decided to give you a heads up. At this rate, he's headed for a mandatory psych hold-"

"I'm on my way." He nodded to the young woman, mouthed 'Can we do this later?'

Looking a little alarmed on his behalf, Candice nodded, gave him an encouraging smile, and took the pretty satin box off the counter. Before she even disappeared into the back room to tuck it away to wait for him to return to claim it, he was already out of the front door, headed at a quick pace towards his truck.

"I can calm 'im, down," Chris said. Of all days for Cade to have an episode! It wasn't his fault. But, it could be as frustrating for his 'baby brother' as it was for the man suffering from the disorder. "He has a psychological condition. I'll call his therapist, get him into the clinic for a voluntary observation."

/Alright, Agent LaSalle. But ya better get here quick. Or else we're gonna have to follow protocol and have him sedated./

* * *

Oh, come on. She was stronger than this! She could chase down suspects, take down armed men twice her size, and break them in the interrogation room. She'd been independent all of her life. She'd had to be. Boyfriends and lovers had been unreliable, her parents were distant at best, her sister had been the _only_ person she'd ever been able to rely on, so close to that Emily had always been able to tell what she was thinking... until Chris LaSalle.

Damn.

She sucked in deep breaths through her nose, trying to pacify her angry stomach. It usually took quite a bit to turn her into an emotional mess.

Her wedding being interrupted again?

Merri Brody wouldn't bat an eye. (The old, detached, not-engaged, not-pregnant Merri Brody wouldn't, anyway.)

Rushing off in the middle of getting her hair done in order to support her fiancé and his troubled brother?

No problem whatsoever.

Stumbling in upon her husband-to-be being held by a woman who'd been his childhood crush?

Even the old Merri Brody would've found that upsetting. But she would have been logical about it, at least. She wouldn't have hastily turned on her heel and determinedly marched out of the therapist's office, picking up speed as she navigated the halls of the clinic, until by the time she made it back through the front doors, she was at a sprint, barely making it to her vehicle before throwing up beside the tire.

There was no reason to think that the embrace meant anything. It's not like they'd been kissing, or caressing or leaning into one another more than necessary for a standard hug. Well, at least not on _his_ part. There had been something in the way the woman's pale hands gripped the back of Chris' shirt. Merri knew Savannah was attracted to the man who'd had an unrequited crush on her as a boy, had tried to use that old attachment for a basis of a new relationship (something someone trained in psychology should know better than to try). It hadn't worked out. Mainly because Chris had discovered he just wasn't interested in pretending, that fulfilling a teenage fantasy wasn't enough for him.

But, Merri had to admit, the attractive red-head made more sense as a potential wife for Chris. At the least, she was closer to his age, was just a year ahead of him in school, if Merri recalled correctly. Could probably give him all the children he wanted.

No. That was unfair. Merri already was in the process of giving him at least one child. But what else could it be that had her so upset at seeing them together?

She wasn't _jealous_ per se... maybe just feeling guilty. Like she didn't deserve such intense, unwavering affection and loyalty as Chris gave her. It was difficult for her to understand _why_ he loved her so. Physical attraction, she could understand easily. They clearly had incredible sexual chemistry. And she loved being around him. There was something oddly relaxing, comforting about his amiable if sometimes too energetic and unrelenting personality. But Merri knew she could be difficult and stubborn, persnickety. What about her was worth it? He'd told her any number of times all the various things he loved about her, yet her own personal inner demons seemed incapable of truly believing that he wasn't making a horrible decision by loving her.

Because she _did_ believe Chris loved her. Just... maybe he shouldn't. Maybe she was being selfish by claiming him and tying him down. Maybe-

"Merri, are ya alright?"

She looked up, found those fricken blue eyes of his filled with nothing but love, his mouth set in a grim line of concern. His hand was gentle on her arm yet filled with strength and support as he coaxed her to stand straight once more. He cupped her cheek with his other hand. Oh, how she loved his hands. Loved him.

Okay, so she was selfish. She wanted him to be hers. Forever.

Good. She wanted him. Decision made. End crazy (likely hormonally-driven) existential crisis.

"Just nerves from everything happening today," Merri said. He narrowed his eyes at her, obviously detecting the lie, that she wasn't being completely honest with him about why he'd found her emptying her stomach onto the asphalt parking lot. But apparently, he decided to let her have her secret for now. He even kissed her despite her protest, seemingly unaffected by the sour post-vomit taste in her mouth that she even found repulsive. It was open-mouthed but tender rather than greedy or lustful.

She sighed, putting her back to the side of the SUV for support as Chris leaned into her, nuzzled her neck, his hands snaking around her back. He made pleased noises in the back of his throat, placing fleeting kisses on her neck and shoulder.

No. That hug he'd shared with Savannah was simply friendly at best. How could Merri forget what an affectionate embrace with Chris LaSalle was like, how he sort of melted into her when he was seeking true comfort? Somehow, just being with her must ease his mind when he was troubled, because on the bad days, he cuddled up to her quite intensely, sometimes for hours, sometimes all night.

It had taken some getting used to, but now Merri couldn't imagine living without his sometimes suffocating affection. Part of her wanted to drag him off and marry him that moment. But it wouldn't be right. Chris would feel guilty for getting married, celebrating, while his brother was in a rough way.

She sighed, stroking his head and neck as he continued to try and mold his entire body to hers, hugging her tight and making that happy half-growl, half-hum noise she knew very well. A moan of relief escaped her as Merri's tightly wound nerves finally seemed to completely relax.

"Next time, can we just run off to Vegas and use a drive-thru chapel or something?"

Chris chuckled, the laughter vibrating through his body and hers, causing her to feel the delightful sensation as if it were her own. She supposed that she could consider all of Chris' feelings as part of herself at this point. They were undeniably their own unique persons, but together they were something else, too. His thoughts, his emotions, they were important to her as her own. More important than her own.

And she couldn't wait to announce that bond to the world, to be his wife.

Well, she could wait. Because waiting just a little while longer is what would be best for the emotional well-being of the man she loved.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, they didn't even make it to the church this time! Wondering when Brody's going to tell LaSalle about the baby? Curious about what secret present he was going to pick up? Guessing when and how they might finally tie the knot? Stay tuned… :-)**

 **A/N 2: This one was quite Brody-centric. But we'll have more LaSalle next time. ;-)**


	4. Attempt 3: Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Third time's a charm…?**

 **Secondary Disclaimer: I obviously also stole lyrics to use for chapter titles, which I also do not own…**

 **Warning: Brief references to mature subject matter.**

* * *

 **THIRD ATTEMPT: GOIN' TO THE CHAPEL OF LOVE**

 **Chapter 1: Bells Will Ring, The Sun Will Shine...**

It wasn't remotely his 'jam' as Patton would put it, but Chris hummed the classic Dixie Cups tune that was playing on an incessant loop in his head. Sure, things had been rough lately, what with Cade's setback and having to cancel his and Mere's wedding yet again, but still he was in a goddang good mood today. A mite nervous, yes. Oddly, he hadn't been really at all nervous on his previous two (non) wedding days. Everything had been planned down to a friggen T with Merri in charge. And all he had to do -well, besides his own list of preparations and chores- was smile at his beautiful bride, say 'I do' and love her the rest of his life.

He still planned on doing those things, the last couple anyway. Only, the more he'd thought about it, the more he realized she'd been right. Oh, he knew it was just a joke, an off-handed remark to ease the tension of that unpleasant day, but 'to hell with it', he'd decided. Two days ago whilst in the middle of the shower, listening to the oldies station -the only one the waterproof radio could pick up in the tiled little space- _Chapel of Love_ had come on, and he'd begun singing along to the song that was one of his mother's favorites. And then he'd remembered Merri's half-joke about running off to Vegas to get hitched. Her tone had been humorous for sure, but also, strained, a little desperate.

And then he'd thought 'why the hell not?' Why couldn't they just run off like a couple of teenagers eloping? He knew Merri didn't care for the whole pomp and circumstance. And neither did he, for that matter. He just wanted to call her 'wife'. Actually, if he were truly honest with himself, he just wanted to hear her call him 'husband.'

"How may I help you today, sir?"

He gave the teller a big ol' smile. She was a cute, blonde thing, if a little on the chubby side. Okay, that was unfair. Her full cheeks had a healthy glow to them and she was very pretty with cornflower eyes. Course, he hadn't been able to find fault with a single soul yet today. Waking up with the kind of purpose he possessed, not to mention a little mornin' lovin' with a good woman... it did do wonders to put a man in a good humor.

"I'd like ta get inta my safety deposit box, please," he said.

"Of course," the girl -Kathleen, according to the nameplate- said, before gesturing to a middle-aged man in a navy suit seated at a desk off to the side. "Mr. Harper will be able to help you with that."

"Thank ya, miss." He flashed Kathleen another smile that had her chubby cheeks turning a little pink, but couldn't feel guilty for spreading his good cheer, even if it did come across as flirtation to some. Merri couldn't blame him for that, surely? No, she never did. Sometimes ladies flirted with him right in front of her, but he never crossed the line between amiability and actual 'flirtation', the latter requiring the kind of intention he simply no longer could conjure for any woman but the one that owned his heart. And honestly, he more than a little suspected that Merri Brody found it amusing when other women tried to hit on her man, and failed.

Mr. Harper or Frank, as he insisted upon being called, escorted Chris into the depths of the large vault, used his master key on the designated box and left Chris in peace to open it and remove the contents he was after. There were a few items he kept in there. The standard vital paperwork that it was inadvisable to keep in your home. A few family heirlooms, the white satin box with the purple ribbon he'd picked up last week and stashed in the box, not knowing when they would make another go of a wedding, and not wanting to keep it in their home where the surprise might accidentally be spoiled.

He took it out. If everything went to plan, he'd need it soon enough. But it wasn't what he was primarily after. The emergency-rainy-day-sock-drawer-under-the-mattress dough. That's what he wanted. There wasn't enough in his personal account at the moment. And the joint one they'd set up to pay the bills and whatnot was out of the question if he wanted it to be a surprise. Although, she might'n't notice if he managed to book the tickets for that very evening.

They could possibly be married by midnight!

They might have to go to a 24-hour drive-thru Chapel of Love. And mebbe couldn't be choosy about whether they were married by a 'normal' chaplain or an Elvis impersonator, but he'd take either if it meant tomorrow morning Mere would wake up a new bride on her honeymoon.

Okay, so her sense of aesthetic and dignity might be more than a little affronted over being married by a man sporting a pompadour and a besequined jumpsuit, but after the run of luck they'd been having, maybe she'd settle for a 'by any means necessary' attitude. They could probably just march down to the courthouse, but Chris had begun to wonder if it wasn't the city itself interfering with their nuptials. He loved New Orleans quite a bit. But he loved his Merri a thousand times more, and the idea of running away with her (if only for a couple of days) was very appealing. Just him and her in the bridal suite at some semi-fancy hotel (couldn't afford the top-of-the-line, not even with the with the entirety of his emergency-rainy-day-sock-drawer-under-the-mattress stash). Room service. And champagne. And good ol' nekked fun.

Oh, she could pretend most of the time, but he knew the sex would appeal to her as much as the bubbly wine and the being pampered. But lord knew, she needed something special. She'd been sort of down the last couple of weeks, since they'd had to call off their wedding for the second time. He supposed that he'd been pretty dang disappointed, too, but it was odd for the resilient woman to show any 'weakness' (what she'd consider weakness, anyway). She could be closed off at times, even after living together for over half a year, sharing their lives entirely. It was just in her nature. But there seemed to be something else off, too. She'd grown finicky with her food, pushing it about her plate more than eating it. And she no longer wanted wine with her dinner. She looked exhausted, tossed and turned at night. He wondered if the whole two-failed-weddings thing hadn't done more of a number on her mental health than she'd let on. Maybe she'd gotten a little depressed.

Even when lovemaking, she hadn't seemed quite herself. That morning, she'd done the thing she did fairly often, using her mouth on him, but whereas normally she...um... swallowed, she'd rushed off to the bathroom instead. He never would've blamed her in the first place if she wasn't into it, but she'd always seemed to be before. He'd asked her if she was alright when she returned from cleaning up and she gave him a wan smile, saying she was fine. It hadn't been completely convincing, but despite whatever blue mood she'd been in, she had seen him thoroughly satisfied. And hell if he was going to be all _take_ an' no _give_. That would be downright ungentlemanly, not to see the lady off properly. So he'd determinedly set to making her feel real 'fine'. She was glowin' like a peach in the summer sun when he'd left her. But there was still a smudge of the dark circles beneath her eyes.

Well, hopefully his scheme would cheer her up in a more lastin' way. She hadn't wanted a big wedding, he knew. And although most would've called the ones they'd planned small, it was still that same involved 'traditional' style she hadn't cared for. So, she would appreciate this, wouldn't she? God, he hoped she would. He hoped that, like for him, all that really mattered about a wedding was that it meant at the end, they'd be married.

He counted the bundle of cash again, then tucked into his jacket's inside pocket, stashing the white satin box in one of the outside ones and feeling like maybe he did need a man-bag or man-purse or somethin'. He was just about to close the lid and call out to Frank who was doubtless waiting just outside at a polite distance for the customer to finish up, when there was an unmistakable noise that made the cheerfulness drop right out through the bottom of his stomach like a rock sinking to the bottom of a still pond.

Chris closed his eyes and tried to pretend it hadn't been what he thought it was. But then there was shouting.

And another gunshot resounding through the large, stone, tile and metal building. A few screams of fear.

 _Well, shit._

* * *

 **A/N: Uh-oh… what's LaSalle going to do? Can he take care of whatever's going on in the bank and still carry out his plan to run off with Merri and elope? Stay Tuned… ;-)**


	5. Attempt 3: Chapter 2

**Author's Note: After writing so much dark stuff lately, it was about time to get back to something lighter.**

* * *

 **THIRD ATTEMPT: GOIN' TO THE CHAPEL OF LOVE**

 **Chapter 2: We'll Love Until The End Of Time...**

* * *

Despite what the rumors were about him, what his fellow agents teased him about, what Merri sometimes worried about in all seriousness (belying her denials), Chris LaSalle was not in fact a heroic idiot. Or idiotic hero. Or whichever implied that he made rash decisions, and flung himself pell-mell into dangerous situations in order to save the day.

He also knew that he came across as a 'dumb hick' to some, actually used the underestimation of his person to his advantage on several occasions. And he never claimed to be a genius, but he wasn't stupid, either. He knew when to act. And when to back down.

And finding himself in a bank being robbed by heavily armed, masked men? Well, that was one of the times to just submit and go with the flow. Because going all John McClane on their asses would only put the lives of all the civilians, as well as his own, in peril. Because if he tried to do something, someone _would_ get hurt. He didn't have to be no genius at calculating statistics to know the probability that a person would be hurt or killed if he caused a ruckus was extremely high.

No. The best bet had been to surrender willingly when two of the robbers' crew appeared at the vault entrance, training a weapon on first a very frightened Frank and then himself. He'd thrown up his hands, warned them ahead of time that he was armed, hoping to preempt and prevent any tetchy reactions by individuals pumped full of adrenaline with itchy trigger fingers. Upon being asked why he was packing, he'd calmly informed him that he was a federal agent but he wan't gonna be no trouble an' besides he was a Navy investigator an' bank robberies were outside of his jurisidi- before they silenced him with the butt of a pistol to the jaw. Damn. That had hurt.

It still hurt a helluva lot. He'd been separated from the civilians, along with the guard, one of the six-man crew keeping an eye specifically on the two of them. He badly wanted to rub the bruise that was doubtless forming on the left side of his jaw, but figured that it was more important to keep his hands on his head. Merri might be quite pissed if he was all black and blue in their wedding photos, but she'd really be all kinds of bowed-up if he got his-self killed.

And yes, he still did plan on sticking to his scheme of running off with his fiancée that very night and wedding her in Vegas. Maybe she'd just be happy enough that he'd survived a bank robbery (without doing anything stupid) to forgive the officiate being an Elvis Impersonator.

The robbers had gathered up all of the cash from the tellers' drawers. They didn't seem interested in tackling the vault. Which meant they weren't entirely stupid. They knew the cops were on their way. Which was another reason just to remain calm and play along. Let the NOPD handle bringing these guys to justice, _after_ they left the bank and all of the innocent bystanders behind, _unharmed_. Well besides his bruised jaw.

Except, apparently, they still had a few minutes. Or thought they had a few minutes. For they began to make their way through the kneeling, cowering crowd, demanding wallets and jewelry to be tossed into their black duffle bags filled with cash.

Couldn't they hear the sirens in the distance?

They were certainly pushing it.

And then one of the bag men made his way over to the guard and Chris, demanding their wallets. Well, guess they weren't all that smart. But what criminals were, really? Because rather than asking where it was and retrieving it themselves, they let the guard put his hand into his pocket and pull the wallet out. Chris was about to follow suit, contemplating drawing the knife out instead, but deciding against it. Even if they were too dumb to pat him down and search him the first time, just taking his SIG from the holster at the small of his back, didn't mean going after the armed men with a knife was a smart idea.

But apparently, not so dumb, this one.

"Not you, fed. Just keep yer hands on yer head."

"Alright, alright. Calm down. I ain't movin'," Chris said, giving voice to his compliance, thinking about how very angry Merri would be if he got himself shot.

"Don't ya tell me what ta do!" Okay, he found the nervous one. Great. Thankfully more composed, the one holding the gun leveled at them put a placating hand on the nervous one's shoulder, and then told Chris to get to his feet keeping his hands on his head.

Shit. They better not be planning to take him as a hostage bargaining chip to escape. Because he could hear those distant sirens getting louder. And he really had important plans for the rest of his day, including not being dragged along at gunpoint into a high speed chase through Southern Louisiana.

But the gun-wielding robber simply informed the bagman to search the fed. He found Chris' emergency-rainy-day-sock-drawer-under-the-mattress stash of money and stuffed it in the black duffel. Damn. That was supposed to pay for his and Merri's elopement.

But not worth losing his head... in what could be quite a literal fashion, judging by the caliber of the weapons some of the robbers were toting.

And then the nervous bagman found the white satin box with the purple bow, pulled it from his pocket and something snapped inside of Chris as he watched it disappear into the bag. The money was nothing. But that, that wasn't just his. It was more important than what it looked to be. And he wasn't going to let these assholes take it.

The bagman had made two mistakes, besides taking the small white satin box with the purple bow. One, he'd gotten very close to Chris in order to rob his personal effects. So close that it was very easy to grab hold of the man and twirl him about, wrap an arm about his neck and use him as a human shield. Which brought them to mistake number two. He'd been so intent on the profitable items in Chris' jacket pockets, he'd neglected to detect the knife, which although only sported a four inch blade was still rather menacing held against a man's neck as Chris currently brandished it.

This was an idiotic thing to do, Chris realized as he stood there, the focus of five masked men armed with assault rifles falling intently upon him. The sirens were getting louder by the moment, but an intimate familiarity with the sound informed him that they were still a few blocks out.

"D' ya hear them sirens?" he said, his voice reverberating of the stone walls in the very silent building. "The cops will be here in jus' a few seconds. I'd cut yer losses an' run for the hills if I was y'all."

The bank robbers seemed to come to a silent consensus. They ran for the door. Big guns worked fine on intimidating unarmed civilians, but no haul was worth a confrontation with the cops. Once a robbery became a hostage situation... there was no way they were getting out free and clear.

Chris' own robber-turned-hostage shouted after his cohorts' fleeing backsides, desperate at being abandoned.

"No honor amongst thieves, huh?" Chris said, which might have been the wrong thing to do, antagonizing the man, who'd gone into a full panic at being sacrificed to the law. He elbowed Chris hard in the ribs twice, and proving he wasn't as much as a pussy as he'd originally seemed, managed to knock the knife out of the federal agent's hand with painfully hard strike to the wrist.

Figures he wouldn't survive this with only a bruised jaw...

The robber got a couple good blows in, continual aiming for the spot he'd already weakened with his elbow, striking Chris in the side of his ribcage with some obviously-well-trained kicks, nearly knocking the wind out of him with the pain that grew sharper with each jab, until he'd finally had enough of the beating and tackled the robber to the tile floor, punching him square in the nose, and then again in the side of the head, which had the desired effect of leaving the masked man in a limp, unconscious heap.

That's when the cops came in, shouting and all worked up in adrenaline-fueled tactical mode.

Chris hastily threw his hands into the air and called out his federal agent status.

He didn't just go through all of this shit to get shot by one of the good guys.

Because lord knew Merri was gonna be upset enough with him as it was... But maybe she'd kiss his wounds and make 'em better. He'd like that. That would almost make up for his elopement plans gettin' ruined.

God, he loved that woman. Always would, whether they ever got married or not. Would love her until the end of time.

* * *

 **A/N: One more chapter for this Attempt…**


	6. Attempt 3: Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I'm actually surprised I'm getting as much fan fiction written as I am when trying to focus on my NaNoWriMo project. But it is my reward for meeting my word count goals. Yay! For rewarding writing with… more writing! Anyway, here's the last chapter of this installment/attempt.**

 **WARNING: FLUFFY FLUFF!**

* * *

 **THIRD ATTEMPT: GOIN' TO THE CHAPEL OF LOVE**

 **Chapter 3: And We'll Never Be Lonely Anymore...**

* * *

"There's my beautiful fiancee." Chris gave an extremely worried-looking Meredith Brody his biggest grin. He'd meant to cheer her up, but somehow, given events entirely outside of his control, he'd wound up piling more on her apparently overburdened shoulders. Poor woman. She didn't deserve a problem husband like he obviously was gonna be.

"What the hell were you even doing there, Chris?" she asked, wearing her stern face and putting her hands on her hips as she stood glowering down at him. "Let alone trying to stop assault-rifle toting bank robbers, unarmed and on your own."

He shifted in the uncomfortable hospital bed, pushing himself to sit up a little straighter, looking at her and feeling the smile fall from his face. He was no liar. He knew he'd done stupid, dangerous things before. Most of the time she teased him about making choices more with his uh- _heart_ than his brains. At the same time, there was always worry for his safety underlying her light-hearted banter. He knew she feared he'd be hurt or killed doing something 'idiotically heroic'. But she also had never asked him to change who he was. And he wouldn't make that request of her, either.

He'd seen what happened with King and his wife. Linda had held out for years, maybe because of Laurel, but ultimately she couldn't bear the burden of loving someone who risked their life on nearly a daily basis. Their marriage had ended basically because of it. But it hadn't ever crossed his mind that he and Merri would have a similar problem. They were cut from the same cloth, after all. And love was worth living with that worry, that possibility that you could lose the most important thing in your life. Because the truth was, it didn't matter if you carried a gun as part of your job or if you spent your days behind a desk. Life was unpredictable. Accidents happened. Inevitably, you were separated from the ones you loved. So you'd better just love them good and hard while you could.

And Chris thought Merri had always believed the same. They had even had such discussions on several occasions. But now, now she was looking at him like she'd been gutted. Like she just might not be able to handle the idea of him risking his life like he had that day.

He skooched over, patted the edge of the hospital cot and opened his arms as wide as his bruised muscles would allow.

"C'mere," he said, and it didn't take any coaxing at all. Merri was in his arms, hugging him so tight that twinges of pain shot through his cracked ribs.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Her fingers dug into his shoulders. She sounded distressed, but from what he could tell, at least she wasn't crying.

"I'm sorry, Mere," he said. "I tried ta just let it happen, not get involved, but I just couldn't."

"I know, it's not who you are," she said. "But god, Chris. I could've lost you."

"Ya didn't." She pulled away enough that she could lean in and kiss him slowly, as if she were savoring him. The embrace seemed to calm her so that when they finally broke apart, the anxiety had subsided from her features.

"I'm not at all the superstitious type…" she said.

"Tell me 'bout it." Chris knew that she likewise was recalling all the time she'd rolled her eyes or outright scolded him for his 'backwoods' supersitions and little rituals. But really, they were just the standard. Salt thrown over the shoulder, horseshoe nailed above the door, hold yer breath while walkin' by a cemetery…

"But I'm beginning to think somebody has it out for us." She continued with her point, ignoring how he could make her not being superstitious seem like a personality flaw. "Pride gets shot on our wedding day. Your brother's meds get screwed up and he had en episode on our second wedding day. And just a couple weeks later, you're caught in a bank robbery?"

LaSalle grimaced. She was more on the ball than she even thought.

"What?" She frowned at his frown. "What is it? I can hear the gears grinding in your head."

"Oh, ya can, can ya?" He tongued the inside of his cheek, debating whether he should tell her the whole truth. But he'd instituted a policy of 'no secrets' when they'd moved in together, even if he hadn't informed her. Well, 'surprises' didn't count as secrets. Except for when they were ruined, anyway, and Merri just might be right about their being cursed. Not that he really, truly believed in that sort of stuff. Just...

"Spill it," she said, pinching his arm.

"Ouch! Hey, woman, my bruises already have bruises. I don't need no more." She simply stared at him with her perceptive, big, so, _so beautiful_ eyes, one eyebrow lifted expectantly. He sighed.

"The reason I was in the bank in the first place was ta get my emergency-rainy-day-sock-drawer-under-the-mattress money."

She shook her head slightly, obviously confused, but smiled that 'you never cease to amuse me' smile that he often thought belonged just to him, "Your 'emergency-rainy-day-sock-drawer-under-the-mattress money'? That you keep in the bank?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. Was she really going to pick on him for being all modern with his secret stash of money?

"Ya want I should bury our savin's in coffee cans in the back yard?"

She laughed. God, how it relieved him to hear her laugh.

"No," she said. "So why did you want to get your emergency money?"

He felt his cheeks flush a little. All they been through, all they _done_... How well she knew every bit of him inside and out, and she could still make him blush for any variety of reasons.

"I was gonna sweep ya off yer feet an' carry ya off ta Vegas ta elope t'night," he said. Her eyes widened a little in shock, but then she smiled, kissed his cheek, just above the bruise on his sore jaw.

"Aren't you the romantic?" she whispered in his ear, leaning into him so that her full breasts pressed against his chest, and the heat of her core warmed his thigh. And then she suddenly pulled back, frowning a little. "Are you saying this is the third time our wedding has been preempted?"

"Think I am, yeah."

"Oh." He watched her face as she pondered this bizarre revelation. Three times. Three times, they'd been on marriage's doorstep, but something had always prevented their crossing the threshold. And god, how he just wanted to carry his bride across said threshold. Maybe they needed to heed that particular superstition, because evil spirits just might be after them.

The pretty features of her face became more and more somber. Then her mouth set in that firm line he knew all too well. Meredith Brody had made a Decision. And despite loving him, sometimes she still neglected to consult him before such Decisions were made. If he objected, she'd reevaluate, of course. But he generally didn't, because part of her deliberation process was apparently considering what he would say if she did in fact consult him.

"Maybe we're not meant to be married," she said. It was a quiet utterance, but oddly not a sad one.

"What _do_ ya mean?" he asked, feeling disappointment grip his insides as intensely as if it were fear. "Don't ya wanna be married ta me?"

"Yes, yes of course I do," she said. And the sincere affection in her expression allowed him to breathe again. "It's just... I can't take any more of the process. The trying and failing. It's really-"

"Discouragin'." He found himself agreeing with her on those counts. Her eyes looked a little wet, but she leaned in for another kiss that had him squirming in the scratchy hospital gown and bedding, wishing they were in their own cozy bed, nekked between the soft sheets.

When she pulled away, her eyes were dark and serious, that deep brown as rich and complex as gourmet chocolate. Her hands remained on his face, a caress he hoped would also be the last one he felt, decades from now, when he left this world.

"Christopher LaSalle..." She said his name in a tone that was somehow both intimate and formal, and if her eyes hadn't been enough to capture his full attention, her voice was. "I vow to love you for the rest of my life, to remain by your side, no matter what. I want to fall asleep in your arms every day, and wake up to you every morning until the day I die."

His heart felt fit to burst out of his chest. He took her hands, gently lifted them from his face, kissed her fingers, and then gazed into her sinfully, heavenly, beautiful eyes. And when he spoke, he'd never been more serious about anything in his life before.

"Meredith Brody, I vow ta love ya with ev'ry single breath in me, ev;ry last beat a'my heart. I will always be with ya, be there for ya, no matter what. Yer my entire world."

They were grinning like idiots when he pulled her down for a kiss to seal their unofficial union. There was an attempt on both of their parts to make the embrace serious, but they both wound up giggling like the smitten fools they were and settled for cuddling up facing one another on the narrow bed, her leg draped over his hip, his hands on her waist and hers on his back. Their noses touched periodically in a strange, blissful game of Eskimo Kisses.

"Can I call ya 'wife' now?" he asked, only partly teasing. "Even though we ain't married in any sorta legal way?"

"Medieval tradition would recognize us as handfast," Merri said, making him give her a puzzled look. "Couples would make their vows to one another and live as husband and wife until they could have their marriage sanctioned by God."

"So I can call ya my wife?"

"Yes, I guess. If you want," Merri said, blushing like a schoolgirl as he pulled her in close.

"Oh, I want.

"C'mere, wife." He kissed her soundly, hungrily. It wasn't an ideal wedding night, but hell if he wasn't at least gonna make out with his unofficial-wife until he was blue in the face. "Time ta consummate our... 'handfast' status."

"Chris, we aren't consummating anything. You have three cracked ribs, a broken wrist and a catheter," she said, laughter rendering her pleasant voice downright melodic. The ribs he'd been immediately aware of in that scuffle. The wrist apparently was from being karate-chopped in the hand (and then punching the bastard in the face probably hadn't helped). And there was also bruising on his lower back where the Bruce-Lee little robber had kicked him, so the doctors were monitoring his urine for kidney damage, too.

"Yeah, they need ta get that dang thing outta me," he said, disgruntled and realizing how uncomfortable it would become if he continued to engage in some foreplay-like fun with his bride.

"Who's 'they'?" Merri asked, feigning a jealously completely belied by the facetiousness in her eyes. "That pretty blonde nurse? Or the brunette with the-"

He silenced her with a kiss. Followed it with several more, until he'd fully engaged her and they were kissing and caressing and rubbing up on one another.

After a few minutes, his back and side began to ache, reminding him that he was in fact lying in a hospital bed, banged up with a couple of broken ribs and a fractured wrist and _not_ on his honeymoon. Groaning, Chris awkwardly rolled onto his back, his sort-of wife giving him a concerned glance before passively snuggling into his side.

"Some wedding night, huh?" he asked, unsure whether he was being sarcastic or serious. It kinda sucked. But finally saying the things aloud, making the commitment to Merri he'd been dreaming about, it was a profound joy in his heart. When his unofficial-wife remained quiet, he shifted slightly to find a somewhat somber expression on her face. She looked... nervous. A little flushed. He stroked her cheek. "What's up, darlin'?"

Her big, round breasts pressed into his side as she took a deep breath, before she pushed herself up to look directly down into his eyes.

"Chris, there was something I was saving to tell you on our wedding night. And I guess this is as close as we're going to get," she said. She took one of his hands squeezing it.

"We're having a baby." She placed his hand low on her belly. The physical gesture was a smart move on her part, because Chris was pretty certain he hadn't heard right. But she held his hand there, over her smooth belly, over her womb, the growing child inside.

"Really?" A baby. It was... It was unexpected, to say the least. Honestly, he'd sort of had the strange desire to see the woman with a fat belly or cradling a tiny babe to her breast almost since the day he'd met her. And he'd sort of secretly hoped to accidentally knock her up since the first time they'd hooked up. It had been a 'no strings attached' liaison, but he'd wanted more from the moment they'd first kissed. He'd wanted _this_. Her, looking at him with hopeful affection, lying in his arms, having promised to love him with all of her heart, carrying their baby inside of her belly.

But he wasn't stupid. Merri was older than him, no longer in her 'prime' childbearing years. He'd never brought it up, though. He loved her too much to put any pressure on her. It was she who'd initiated the discussion of children. She wanted to have a couple, too. But they had to be aware it might not happen. They'd discussed adopting in the case that they couldn't, both seemed amenable to it. But he'd also insisted that they didn't start trying until after a 'honeymoon' period. He never wanted her to feel like she let him down if it didn't happen.

But... "Wow."

"Yeah," she said, her cheeks pink as she smiled with shy pleasure.

"How? I mean-"

She laughed. "I made a mistake, forgot to change my birth control when it expired. All that stupid complicated wedding planning."

He grinned like a fool.

"Then I'm glad we tried ta have a stupid complicated weddin'," he said, placing quick little pecks on her lips, rubbing her belly -her _womb-_ with his thumb. "Have ya seen a doctor yet? Is everythin' alright?"

"Remember that doctor's appointment I had a week after our first wedding?" Chris nodded, slipped his hand under her blouse -which he'd already untucked earlier- and began to caress the bare skin of her belly. She wasn't showing yet, really. Maybe she'd put on a pound or two? But she had such a lovely, curvy frame with full breasts and round hips, it wasn't noticeable. At least, Chris wanted to believe he wasn't completely oblivious. Especially when it came to Merri and her body. It was just that he'd explained all of the little changes in her behavior with the idea that she'd been depressed by their wedding trials. Except, he did feel legitimized in that odd notion he'd been having that her breasts had gotten even larger but had been too afraid to say aloud and be scolded for fixating like a typical male.

"I'm ten weeks pregnant now," she said. "And the doctor says everything looks fine. She doesn't think there will be any complications, but she took me through the common ones for later-in-life pregnancies."

Maybe he should be upset that she hadn't told him earlier. But he was just too damn happy. On Cloud-Fucking-Nine. They were as married as they were ever going to get (apparently) and they were having a baby. Also, the painkillers were taking the edge off most of the ache of his cracked ribs.

"Are you happy, Mere?" he asked. It was important to him that she felt as ridiculously happy as he did.

"Happier than I've ever been, Chris," she said, her look turning from serious to playful. "Now the secret's out, I can get a new bra with better support. All of mine are uncomfortably tight. And so are my jeans, for that matter."

He laughed, kissed her on the nose. "Guess I better keep my emergency-rainy-day-sock-drawer-under-the-mattress money out."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't start being one of those guys who claim they're under their wife's thumb."

"Ain't I already under yer- Ow! Dang, woman!" She'd slapped him lightly on the chest, but it was enough to send a little jolt of pain past the lovely, lovely painkillers. And yet, he could only grin at her as he studied his pretty wife. Well, as far as wedding nights go, he actually considered himself damn lucky. None could claim a woman as clever, beautiful and affectionate as Merri Brody loved them. Intelligent brown eyes, kissable soft lips, her slender throat, an enticing expanse of cream colored skin sprinkled with freckles across her collarbones and down into her blouse- _oh!_

"I 'most forgot in all the excitement," he said, sitting up quickly and immediately regretting it as the sterile white, fluorescently lit room spun. "Where're my things?"

Merri looked confused at being dislodged from spooning with her new 'handfast' husband, but as soon as she realized he was about to do something stupid like get out of bed in search of his missing possessions, she jumped into action, forcing him to lie back down with a firm hand on his chest, and an apologetic peck to his lips (his discomfort must have shown on his face like a goddang billboard).

"Just calm down. They're right here," she said, walking over to where her bag and coat sat on the chair tucked in the corner of the hospital room. She held up a large plastic bag for him to see, with his boots and his pants and the rest of the items he had on him when he was admitted. "No harm. Relax."

"Bring m' jacket over here, please, wife-a-mine." He gave her his charming grin, which sometimes worked on the woman who knew him too well, and often didn't. The way she responded really depended on her mood, which thankfully at the moment appeared to be a buoyant one.

"Here," she said, placing it in his reaching hands. "Will you please lie back down, now?"

He put his hands in the pockets. Mostly empty. His knife and his money had been checked into evidence and he'd have to claim them later. He was lucky they let him keep the clothes on his back. He had managed to sweet talk the one first responder into letting him keep the white box with the purple bow that he'd hastily retrieved from the ninja-robber's bag and held in a death grip in his hand even while he allowed himself to go all fetal and struggled to breathe on the marble -or, he suspected, faux marble- floor. Before it could get lost with all of the paramedics probing fingers, he stuck it back into his jacket pocket. And, thank sweet baby jesus, it was still there.

"What's this?" Mary asked when he presented the small white satin box with the purple bow to her.

"It's yer wedding present." She seemed about to object to his getting her a gift, but he interjected before she could. "Though it ain't nearly as good as the one ya've given me."

Pulling her down onto the narrow hospital bed to cuddle up to his side once more, he caressed her belly again -something he knew he'd be doing incessantly over the coming months, likely drive her crazy with his affection. And she smiled at him, gave the unbruised side of his face a kiss, before she turned her attention back to her wedding present.

He stared at her, anticipation causing his heart to race despite the sedatives they'd given him. (He hadn't even been actin' up none when they'd brung him in, neither.) Her slender -oh so skillful- fingers slid over the smooth satin of the box -not so white as it had once been after its many adventures. But it was her face that drew the focus of all of his attention as she cracked the box open to reveal what was inside.

Her big brown eyes widened, her pupils dilating slightly as the corner of her mouth twitched, the precursor to the brilliant smile that broke out on her face, lighting it up, making her glow in that way of hers, unique to her. He'd never seen anyone as goddang beautiful when they smiled as his wife was.

"Ya like it?" he asked, too giddy and eager to remain patient.

"It's beautiful," she said as she removed it from the box and held it up, the antique silver chain draping over her slender fingers.

"It was my mama's," he said watching her finger the pendant, the light glittering off the stones and adding colored specks amongst the faint freckles on her nose and cheeks. "I guess ya'd say it's sorta a family heirloom."

"Oh, it should go to your sister, then," Merri said, her eyes finding him, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She always got flustered around his open and affectionate family. He also knew that his sweet mother made his fiancee-wife nervous. Merri so desperately wanted to please the woman who had brought him into the world and raised him up. It was kinda cute. Even though he'd prefer that she didn't stress over it. His mama did love her.

"Nope," he said, making her brow furrow in confusion in that cute way. "It don't work that way."

He watched her, pushing it until her confusion began to change to irritation. He liked to play that game. And she knew he liked to play that game.

"Well, how does it work, then?" she said, giving in, scowling at him in what he knew wasn't genuine anger, for it melted straight away when he grinned at her.

"My daddy's mama gave it ta him ta give ta my mama on their wedding day, like his daddy's mama give it him ta give my gramma."

Merri blinked at him as she tried to process the flood of information that even he had to admit was a mite overwhelming.

"But we aren't officially married," she whispered. "Are you sure that your mother would want-"

"She tole me she wanted ya ta have it, Mere." He cupped her face with his good hand. "She said it belonged ta the love of my life."

"What about Cade?" she asked, convincing how right a choice he'd made -not that falling in love with Merri had been a conscious decision. His 'wife' was all kinds of concerned about upsetting his siblings.

"He agreed that it should go ta ya."

Now she really was blushing furiously, as he coaxed her to turn her back towards him so he could put it on her, fumbling with the clasp, the fingers of the hand immobilized in a wrist-brace feeling a little tingly.

"I'm sure ya noticed the stones are all diff'rent," he said, when she settled back down, her fingers playing with the filigree pendant. He decided not to make her beg him to share the story this time. "It originally only had one stone, the ruby . But part of the tradition is ta add its new owner's birthstone. I had ta find an artisan specializin' in jewelry and antiques restoration."

"Well, it was definitely worth it." Merri picked the pendant off her chest, holding it up to examine it once more. "The design is flawless. Which sapphire is mine?"

Chris leaned in closer, touched the stone that had been added into the setting. The scent of his unofficial-wife flooded over him, washing away the antiseptic odor of the hospital, warming him from the inside out with contentment. He loved her so damn much, even when, especially when she was being all overwhelmed and shy, like she couldn't believe anyone would care about her as much as he did. At the same time, he often wanted to ask her who had made her believe she was unworthy of being loved, of someone giving her his entire heart, and put some good hurt on the asshole.

She turned into him a little, their noses touching, before she tilted her head just a little, dropped the pendant back to her chest so she could kiss him on the mouth, her hands caressing his neck and shoulders in a way he wasn't too proud to admit made him whimper like a dog begging for more cuddles.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips as they settled down into the narrow bed once more. She turned, placing her -groan- delicious backside flush to his pelvis, which was rather awkward when he considered all of the tubes going in and out of him, but hell if he was going to refuse spooning with his new (handfast) wife. He wrapped his arms around her, placing a hand on her partrurient womb, which she covered with her own. Burying his face in her neck, he whispered his reflection of her own heart's sentiment.

"I love ya, too, wife."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry people. Couldn't have them follow the standard pattern, no matter how hard I tried. But there's still an epilogue left.**

 **A/N2: LaSalle-heavy enough for you, Marjorie K Place? ;-) Funny enough, since you mentioned how much I seemed to write from Brody's perspective, I've been finding myself drawn to writing more LaSalle than usual without even trying. Challenge subconsciously accepted, I suppose? :-p**


	7. Epilogue

**Author's Note: Here's the long-awaited (if any of you even remembered about this fic) epilogue. I think it's lengthier than any of the 'Attempts' and is perhaps more sequel-like in nature. But it belongs with this story for reasons that will become obvious. Enjoy…?**

 **(Please take with a grain of salt and maybe forgive my errors. I am not a medical professional. I only have the internet and the experiences of friends and family for reference.)**

* * *

 **EPILOGUE**

The urge to curl in on herself was overwhelming. There was no way 'intense pressure' was an apt descriptor. The contraction was like an uber-muscle cramp. Merri had suffered pretty severe charlie horses in her calves and in her back before, to a crippling degree. But it was nothing in comparison to her uterus contracting, the entire beach ball size mass feeling like one unbearably cramped muscle as it prepared to expel the full-term (felt like way longer than the 39 weeks it'd been) fetus. Didn't it know she wasn't quite to that stage yet? Or if this was just pre-labor contractions, then she may have underestimated her ability to handle this childbirth thing.

"Why don't you and your partner try one of the relaxation positions you practiced?" the midwife suggested, her voice aggravatingly calm.

Partner. The term stuck out to her somehow, irking her a little. And she found herself wondering why as Chris helped her up onto the bed and settled in behind her, coaxing her to lean back against him, his strong chest and arms supporting her, his hands soothing her twitching belly -her traitorous belly that was trying to push the baby out of her before the rest of her body was quite ready for it.

"There," the midwife said, propping Merri's feet up on a pillow. "Just relax. Save your energy. You're gonna need it. Let your partner support you."

 _He's not my partner! He's my husband!_ She wanted to scream it at the top of her lungs, just so the world would get the message. But he wasn't her husband, not technically, not legally, not even as far as anyone else knew besides the two of them. And Pride. And Loretta. And maybe even Sebastian and Percy, but god love them, they sort of existed in their own little worlds. So who knew if they noticed that Chris had taken to calling her 'my darlin' wife'?

It was odd since - _oh!_ \- She focused entirely on breathing in and out for a few seconds before the contraction finally subsided, before returning to her consideration of why the term 'partner' had suddenly started to piss her off so very much. It was a welcome distraction, as welcome as the scent of her _husband_ -not-just-her-partner engulfing her, washing away the pungent antiseptic hospital odor.

She had always used to like the term, preferred it even. Partner. Life Partner. It bespoke equals in an endeavor, in a journey with mutual respect. But she'd suddenly come to realize that Husband and Wife weren't antiquated ideals, they were just terms for a specific kind of partners. The kind of partners she and Chris were. More than that, he was her _husband_. She wanted to be able to say that to the world. For people to understand immediately what he meant to her. That she both loved and hated him. That he drove her completely insane and she would happily spend eternity wrapped up in him. That at this very moment she wanted to murder him for getting her pregnant and fall to her knees before him and thank him for the gift of their child.

He was her husband. And she wanted that to be true in every sense of the word. She wanted her husband, not her partner, to welcome their child into the world.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?" God love him, he was trying to remain calm, but his voice was strained from the stress of seeing her in such physical duress. She knew he'd been nervous about the decision to try natural childbirth, that she insisted she didn't want any drugs. The doctor had signed off on it however, the only condition being that she deliver in the hospital just in case complications occurred. And he trusted and respected his 'darlin' wife' enough to support her wishes. But it was still freaking him out, she knew. And she both loved and hated him for his worry and fear that she couldn't handle it.

"I want-"

"An epidural? That's prob'ly a good idea. Mebbe-"

Ugh! Hated him. Loved him.

"No, Chris." Feeling more comfortable since the contraction had passed, she struggled to push herself to sit straight up, turning to face him, look into his blue eyes filled with anxiety and affection, that she both hated and loved. "I want-"

"Ta get the baby outta ya as soon as ya can. Can't blame ya fer-"

"No." She grabbed his shoulders and stared him into shutting the hell up for a full three seconds. "I want to get married, officially, legally."

"Oh," he said, looking a little confused and a little relieved that she wasn't freaking out about the baby that was about to pop as much as he apparently was. "Well, we ken try agin, whenever ya wanna."

"Now."

He started at the sharpness in her tone, but she refused to back down. Maybe she was fixating. Maybe it was a ridiculous request. But god, she was about to bring a life into the world through pain and blood and every ounce of strength she had in her. She was allowed to fixate on something else wasn't she? She was allowed to have a man at her side who was recognized by the whole world for what he truly was, her _husband_.

"Uh... Mere, I..."

"I'm not having this baby until we're legally married, Chris."

His blue eyes slid away from her intense gaze, obviously looking to the midwife for help.

"There's a priest who generally serves at the hospital chapel."

Merri grinned. She knew she'd picked the middle-aged woman with greying hair and soft hazel eyes to be their midwife for a reason.

"Thanks, Lucy," she said, glancing over at the woman who was suppressing what appeared to be laughter. "We have some time anyway before full labor sets in, right?"

"From my experience, I'd say that you got at least an hour before the little one makes its entrance," she said.

Merri looked back at her _partner_ who should and would be her husband, damn it. He was currently looking at her like he both hated and loved her.

Good.

Because she was his wife.

"Go," she said, pushing him off the bed. "And don't come back without a priest."

"Have ya gone complet'ly insane, woman?" He was shaking his head, his eyes flaring with his conflicting emotions, and a lopsided grin plastered across his face.

"Maybe," she said. "But you owe me for being the one to grow our baby and bring it into the world. And I want to place our newborn child in my _husband's_ arms."

"Fine," he said. It was strange to find irritation and the smitten sort of expression of idiots in love warring on his face. He leaned in, for what she thought was a quick peck on the lips but turned into something rather inappropriate given the surroundings as he took her face in his hands and thrust his tongue into her mouth, sending a shiver of pleasure and heat through her that was abruptly halted by the stabbing pain of another contraction taking hold.

He was lucky she pushed him away before she bit his tongue. He gave her his playful charmer's grin, backing towards the door.

"Don't go havin' that baby wi'out me, Mere. Or yull be makin' it up ta me fer the rest a' yer life. An' I got more than a few ideas on how."

He winked at her.

"I hate you, Christopher LaSalle!" she called after him, hearing his drawl call back "I love ya, too" before the door closed behind him.

* * *

Chris really wanted to say that it was out of character for his darlin' wife to behave so very irrationally. Except, despite the level-head Meredith Brody generally possessed, when she felt as if a situation was out of her control, she got a mite tetchy and irrational. And this time, he was NOT going to point it out to her. In fact, he was gonna do whatever she asked, no matter how ridiculous it seemed. They were having a baby, but she was doing all the work. He'd gotten to do the fun part with her. And hell, he'd made the midnight run for 'pickles and ice cream' or in Merri's case, Oreos and Funyons. He'd rubbed her feet and her back, let her use him as a body pillow in rather uncomfortable ways and didn't arrest her for public urination that one time when she couldn't make it the one block to the nearest available restroom.

But this was the trickiest request yet.

Not to mention the fact that it meant he wasn't with her. He'd reassured himself since the day he found out she was pregnant, their sort-of-wedding night, that he wouldn't let her out of his sight when the baby came, that he'd be there with her the whole time. It was the only way he could keep the nearly crippling fears and worry at bay. But it wasn't like he could do a damn thing for her if it did go wrong. Except be there.

And now he wasn't there. She'd sent him away.

No. No, he was doing this _for_ her. Being there for the woman you loved was more than just physically being at her side. It was supporting her emotionally. It was giving her what she needed. It was doing things for her that she couldn't do herself, or in a surprising concession of her independent nature allowed you to do for her.

She wanted to be officially, legally married before the baby was born. And God help him, Chris would do whatever it took to make that happen. Because he loved her. Even when she did things like this, that drove him absolutely insane to the point of hating her, he loved her.

The priest wasn't in the hospital's chapel. There was only an elderly lady, praying silently, on her knees in the pew her hands clasped together, her eyes closed with a single tear streaming down her cheek, glittering in the flickering candlelight.

There was no way, even as desperate as he was, that he was going to interrupt her communion with the Almighty. Her troubles seemed far worse than his, after all. So instead he went in search of someone who might know where the priest was at. No one seemed to know. He stopped three nurses and an orderly (none of whom appeared to be on a mission to save a life) to ask about the whereabouts of the man of cloth, but they all thought he could usually be found in the chapel at this time of day. One nurse helpfully suggested that he might have been called to the bedside of a terminal patient, which happened fairly often. He hoped she meant the request for comfort and not that they had an overabundance of terminal patients. The latter notion making part of him want to run back, collect Merri and bring her to a better, less death-ridden hospital.

He was pretty sure she would murder him if he tried. Or if he tried to go back to her sans wedding officiate to make their marriage legal.

Damn.

He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket, dialed the second favorite contact in its memory.

/I'm almost through, with the paperwork, Christopher. And then, I'm headed straight over./

"Gotta bit of a situation, King," Chris said, instantly regretting his word choice and the strained sound of his voice for the alarm it raised in his best friend.

/What's happened? Are they alright?/ Dwayne Pride had already adopted his agents' unborn baby into his family, talking about all of Laurel's old toys he was going to get out of storage, and everything he wanted to teach Baby Brody-LaSalle. Sometimes, Chris swore that his friend talked about the baby more than its parents' did.

"Yeah. They're fine. Didn't mean to scare ya. But Merri, she's made a bit of a steep last minute request, King." Chris stopped pacing just in time to not run into the group of doctors and nurses as they rushed a patient's gurney past him. Apparently, he had somehow wandered towards the ER.

Pride chuckled. /Yeah, Linda made me go get her the scrap of security blanket that was stored with her other childhood things in a box in the attic when she was in labor with Laurel. Of course, she forgot completely about it by the time Laurel began making her entrance./

Chris chuckled, too, feeling a little relieved. Honestly, he would've made Merri crazy or gone crazy himself if he hadn't had the older man's wisdom and advice. He'd never missed having his father in his life, not since he'd met Dwayne Pride, had been basically adopted by the man. Pride was a better parental figure than his biological father ever had been. And he was the first one he turned to for help... well, after Merri, because she was undeniably the center of his world, a place she herself would be sharing with someone else very soon.

Was it really possible to cram so many people into your heart?

Chris was certainly willing to try.

"Uh, Merri wants ta be leg'lly married before the baby's born," he said, knowing he could trust his friend to come through for him. "An' I'm currently trying ta track down the priest 'round these parts to officiate, but it jus' occurred ta me-"

/You need a marriage license for it to be legal./ Theirs had, well, expired.

"Yup." Now Chris' voice was strained not from anxiety for Merri and the baby's well being, but because he knew he was asking for the near impossible. Especially if he had as little as 45 minutes left before Merri really went into labor. "An' we might not even have an hour left ta get 'er done."

/I promise I'll do everythin' I can, Christopher. I ain't that far from city hall./ They'd been about to make a prisoner transfer to NOPD when Chris got the call from Merri that her water had broken. Pride had barely finished telling him to 'go' with a big grin on his face before the father-to-be was out the door.

"I know ya will, King," Chris said. "Thanks for everythin'."

/I'll see you, in a little bit./

Okay. King was covering the actual important legal bit. But without the signature of a licensed officiate, they still wouldn't be actually married in the eyes of the law. So, he had to find this priest, Father Bell, the nurses had said his name was.

Secretaries, and secretary-like folk were generally the ones that ran a place. Hence why the politically-correct term was 'Administrative Assistant' or some such variation. Because they were the ones making sure a place could actually run. So... well, he was already near the ER and therefore the primary reception desk for the hospital... And if they didn't know where the man was, maybe they could page him? Even Merri, after living with him for over a year, still sometimes caved entirely under the influence of his charm. So perhaps he could get them to do him a little favor.

The receptionist looked highly stressed, to say the least. But Chris kept the most charming variant of his patented grin plastered across his face.

"Pardon me, miss," he said to the woman who was obviously rapidly approaching retirement age. Sometimes that specific flattery worked. But then again, sometimes it didn't.

"Yes?" she said, her temperament blatantly as short as his remaining time.

"I was wonderin' if ya might'n page Father Bell for me?"

Okay. Obviously not the sort of request she thought was imminent when he'd flashed his charmer's grin.

"That's not somethin' we allowed ta do, sugar." He smiled more broadly, his humor lightened by the woman's conciliatory response.

"Ya need a doctor's permission?" he asked, using the old 'we's just a couple workin' stiffs' camaraderie tactic.

"Staff only," she clarified with a pitying smile that said 'I'd sure like ta help ya, blue eyes, but, ya know...' Chris pushed it with a partial pout. (It sometimes even worked on Merri, after all.) "But I can tell ya that Father Bell isn't in today. He's over at the soup kitchen."

His pout turned to a genuine frown. Damn.

"There ain't no other man a god 'bout these parts?" he asked, again earning a confused look from (her nametag said) Marlene. "Or mebbe a justice a the peace?"

"Ya lookin' ta get hitched, sugar?" Her dark eyes flashed with amusement. "'Cause ya realize ya in a hospital an' not a church."

Chris chuckled. He liked Marlene.

"My... Uh… fiancée..." Yeah. That was probably the best word to describe Merri in this context. He honestly thought of her as his wife in every respect. But his explanation was going to sound like lunacy if he said she needed to find someone official to marry him and his wife. "She's about ta give birth-"

"Oh, congratulations," Marlene said with a sincere smile. And then she glared at someone over Chris' shoulder. He assumed the recipient had been the source of the grumbling. Something along the lines of 'isn't this an emergency room' and 'I didn't realize shootin' the shit was considered an emergency'.

"Thanks." He opted to ignore the Grumbly Gus behind him. Because even though it was true he wasn't bleeding or broken or vomiting, Chris' life was in danger. With the mercurial range of moods Merri had been in so far that day, he might just end up murdered instead of a proud father. "But ya see, she's sorta threatenin' ta _not_ have the baby if we don't get hitched right quick."

"Honey, I believe your woman is likely the strong type ta keep ahold of a man like you." Marlene winked at him. And Chris was not above employing flirtations to achieve his ends. "But there ain't no way in hell she's gonna decide when that baby comes."

"Tell her that," he said, leaning in for a more 'conspiratorial' rapport with the receptionist. "She ain't never gonna forgive me if I don't do this fer her. And trust me, that woman's got ways a punishin' a man."

Marlene chortled. He waited for her amusement to pass before employing the 'puppy-dog eyes'. Yes, for his beloved Mere, he was fully willing to humiliate himself in whatever form necessary. Well, mainly because he would really like to be there for his child's birth.

"There ain't nothin' ya ken think of?" He pleaded. Yes, pleaded. This was his baby's first breaths he was talking about. Okay, he didn't truly believe Merri would deny him that moment. But she was upset. She was about to be in severe pain. And he loved her. And if a hasty improvised marriage ceremony would ease her anxiety about the impending life-changing process, then he was going to do everything he could to make it happen.

Apparently ruminating on his request, Marlene chewed on the end of her pen, adding a few more teeth marks to the generic white plastic ballpoint with the hospital logo printed on the side.

"Hmm..." She had an idea. That much was obvious. But she was also obviously reluctant for some reason.

"Ya've got an idea, Marlene," he said, trying to coax her with another grin. "I ken tell."

"How does ya fiancee feel 'bout VooDoo?

* * *

It wasn't so much controlled breathing as desperate panting, despite the midwife's calm, encouraging coaching. But Merri was not going to hyperventilate and black out. It would pass. The contraction would pass. The pain would subside.

And then it would start all over again in another ten minutes. Or was she down to eight? They were getting closer and closer together. Her baby was going to make its appearance soon. And by appearance, she meant terrifying, painful and bloody expulsion from her body. She knew it wasn't possible, but she sort of felt like her uterus was going to turn itself inside out.

How had evolution ended up here, pushing a large offspring through a _not_ large passage?

And if God was to blame, then well, she wasn't above blaming him/her/it at the moment, either.

Where was Chris?!

Why had she sent him away?

Idiot. She was an idiot. She found it easier to dwell on her isolationistic tendencies as the contraction subsided and she was capable of breathing more freely. She didn't care whether they had a piece of paper legally declaring them married. Or a ceremony of any sort. She knew what he was to her. And what she was to him. That he loved her and he would do anything for her... Something he was currently proving because, idiot she was, she'd sent him away.

No. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to lose it. She needed to stay strong and focused. For her and her baby. And for the man she loved.

"You're doin' great, Merri," Lucy said, rubbing the back of her neck. "It won't be long now."

She wanted to ask the midwife to check her again. But she just had before the last contraction. And she still had three centimeters to go before the hardest part of the labor would begin. For now, she was being coached through the contractions to resist the urge to push her baby out, her body still not ready yet to pass the infant through the birth canal.

Merri wasn't sure if knowing all the technical details she'd researched was beneficial or added extra anxiety. But she'd read up on it a bunch, talked to her doctor and the midwife, anyway, because she knew the control freak in her would need to know precisely what was happening.

She only wished Chris was there by her side, considered asking if Lucy could send someone to fetch him back. Because Merri had never considered how badly she'd want -no, _need_ him at this moment. His voice, calm and affectionate. His hands, strong and warm yet so tender when he touched her face, rubbed her shoulders and back, caressed her swollen belly. His eyes. And his scent. She wanted to wrap herself up in him like a cozy blanket. She-

Speak of the devil.

The door opened, and the man poked his head in, a broad grin breaking out across his face as he saw her, obviously relieved to find her in one piece, enormous pregnant belly and all.

"Chris, where the hell have you been?!" Struggling to her feet, she shuffle-waddled towards him, supporting her aching back with both hands. He squeezed into the room, hastily closing the door behind him, causing her to narrow her eyes in suspicion.

"Ya sent me on an errand, remember, darlin'?" He kissed her cheek, and she swatted him in the shoulder.

"You should've known better than to listen to me when I was in the middle of-" He caught her, supporting her with an arm around her back and offering her the other to squeeze in a death grip with both hands as she tried to focus on breathing through the contraction.

She could hear him worriedly questioning the midwife even as they both sent supportive and calm words her way. Lucy updated the father-to-be on the status of his impending child, and she could feel a little of the tension ebb from him. She knew him well enough to tell that her pain was upsetting him. But he'd have to deal with it for the next hour. Maybe two. Just like she had to endure the actual pain.

The contraction didn't seem so bad as the previous, seemed to be over sooner. But Merri knew it was solely because Chris was there. Relieved that the pain and her body's overzealous urging was over, she leaned into her not-official-but-true husband, gripping the soft fabric of his shirt front and burying her face in his shoulder to breathe in the scent of him. She certainly had been stressing him out, because the sharp, slightly spicy odor of his sweat cut through the scents of his soap and deodorant. On any other man, she might have found it repugnant. But every part of Chris LaSalle had been imprinted on her mind and body, on her fricken heart. God help her, at this moment, even his familiar body odor was a comfort.

"Ya were sayin' somethin' about bein' completely wacko?" He asked, his voice soft and affectionate even though she wouldn't blame him for being furious at her pushing him away.

"I'm sorry, Chris," she said. "I just... I just want everyone to know what you mean to me."

She pulled away, cupped his face in her hands. "But the only who needs to know how much I love you, _is_ you."

He nodded in mock solemnity, but the facetious glint in his eye belied the somber expression.

"Ya wanna show me how much ya love me?" he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. Was he really making sexually suggestive comments at a time like this?

She slapped his chest with the back of her hand. "I'm in the middle of birthing our child!"

"But ya got a few minutes t' the next contraction, right?" He grinned his stupid-charming grin at her. The one sporting deceptive innocence with an intriguing undertone of appealing sexuality. It probably -nope, definitely was the one that had caused her to get pregnant in the first place.

She glared at him.

He winked.

"There's someone I want ya ta meet," he said, opening the door and ushering in a middle-aged woman with a cafe latte complexion and the most intense dark eyes Merri had ever been caught up by. The woman seemed to have read the entire book on Meredith Brody within a matter of seconds. And the mother-to-be found herself actually nervous about what the stranger had made of her.

"This is Madame Deveaux," Chris said, turning to the lady dressed in white. "Madame Deaveaux this is my fiancee, Merri."

Those dark eyes surveyed the very pregnant woman, who was trying to stand tall despite the fact that she could feel another contraction coming on.

"Nice to meet you," Merri said, quickly holding out her hand to shake. Madame Deveaux took it, held it rather than shook it, continuing to scrutinize Merri before the corner of her mouth turned up in a smile, her eyes lighting up in an extremely fetching manner. "But if I might just have a moment with my hus- fiancé..."

Thankfully she released Merri's hand so she was able to grab Chris by the arm and turn away from their guest for a slightly more private moment as the contraction struck her full force.

"Oh, jeez," he said, wrapping his arms around as she gripped his shoulders for support, surprise on his face. Apparently, he hadn't expected another one to hit her so soon.

"Lucy?" Merri called out to the midwife who'd been observing the occurrences like some sort of telenovela, an expression of shock mingled with bemusement and a hint of pleased curiosity. "How far apart?"

"Seven minutes, Merri," she said, coming up beside the couple that looked like they were doing the deranged version of the middle school slow dance, her fingers tangling up in his shirt, digging into his shoulders with bruising force. "You're doing great. Just a little longer an' we'll check your dilation again, okay?"

Merri nodded, still focusing on her breathing, staring into her hus -fian- her _man_ 's blue eyes, trying to figure out who precisely he'd brought into the delivery room. And what game he was playing. She'd asked for a priest. Maybe the woman was some sort of religious representative. She had the air of confidence and a sort of wise-woman vibe that Merri had only previously encountered in the personage of Loretta Wade.

When the contraction passed, she turned back to face the (she supposed 'invited' was technically true) guest.

"Sorry about that, um..." Her brain wasn't quite working right, flooded with crazy amounts of normally low-level hormones and trying to cope with what was basically terror and the comparatively less severe pain. But she knew it, Chris had just said it... "Madame Deveaux."

The woman smiled. She had a very pretty smile. It was difficult to feel uncomfortable around a woman with such a genuinely kind smile, even if she was a relative stranger.

"Ya two sure leavin' it ta the last moment," she said, turning a sterner look on Chris. "In my day..."

Merri didn't think her 'day' in point of fact predated the decade-or-so younger pregnant woman's day by all that much.

"One of youse daddies woulda seen ya hitched with the aide of a shotgun far before ya'll reached this state."

Her tone was admonitory. And LaSalle got that 'scolded little boy' look on his face, but Madame Deveaux proceeded to laugh, the sort of laughter that was highly infectious.

"What is going on here...?" Merri asked of her pink-cheeked lover.

"Ya said I couldn't come back without a priest," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Merri frowned. "I already said I was sorry for being irrational."

His eyes took on that intense, serious look of his as he took her hands.

"You asked me ta do somethin' fer ya, Mere. On the day yer givin' birth ta our baby. A-course I was gunna...Well, I couldn't find a priest. But I found a priest _ess_."

Merri felt her eyebrows shoot up her forehead.

"I have a feelin' we ain't got much time before the little one gets here," Madame Deveaux said. "So if ya'll gonna do this..."

"Mere, ya wanted ta get married," Chris said. "And Madame Deveaux here has a license to officiate, since some of her... uh... parishoners have requested her to marry 'em."

Madame Deaveaux nodded, a proud but not arrogant set to her jaw and shoulders. Merri could see how the woman was a trusted figure in her community, her church... whatever- "What church exactly is she a _priestess_ of?"

"VooDoo," she said, unwavering in her pride, even as Chris fidgeted nervously.

Oh, well... Merri shrugged.

"Okay," she said. Chris looked a little shocked by her nonchalance. "Well, we aren't exactly norm- _traditional_ , are we?"

She hastily looked to the VooDoo Queen, afraid she might have offended the woman. Honestly, she held no qualms about the religion. It had deep roots and traditions, as deep as any other. Really, deeper than some.

The woman merely inclined her head, still smiling. She obviously found the odd pair eminently amusing. And Merri couldn't blame her, really.

"Madame Deveaux, would you do us the honor of making our marriage legal?" Merri asked, for some reason wanting to make it clear that their being together wasn't some ephemeral happenstance, that their bond was already true and lasting.

Her mouth twitched. "So that's how it is? Just need the blessing of the law?"

"Bas'cally," Chris said.

"We gotta make it quick, though," Merri said. She knew she was running extremely short of time before another contraction came. She turned to face Chris. "You really want to do this? You're not just trying to make me happy?"

"Mere, if ya hadn't decided we should just be 'handfast', I woulda kept tryin' ta marry ya 'til we succeeded or I died in the attempt."

He kissed her soundly. And with all the insanity going on in her body, Merri never expected that familiar warm pleasure to blossom in response. But she supposed it didn't matter the situation. It was a constant in the universe that, "I love you, Christopher LaSalle."

"I love ya, too, Meredith Brody."

Madame Deveaux clapped her hands together.

"Good 'nough for me," she said, glancing over her shoulder to where Pride had snuck into the delivery room, trailing Laurel, Percy, Sebastian, Loretta and Patton behind. Perpetually Placid Lucy actually scowled at the appearance of the crowd. "We got the vows. We got the witnesses. We got the marriage license?"

Pride stepped forward, waving a piece of paper, huge grin plastered across his face. "Right here, Madame Deveaux."

"Oh, good ta see you, Dwayne," she beamed at what apparently was actually an old acquaintance. Of course Dwayne Pride knew a VooDoo Queen. What was Merri thinking?

"Don't mean to interrupt," Merri said through gritted teeth, causing the now irritated midwife to take a few steps closer and place a hand on her patient's back. "But can we finish this up?"

"By the power invested in me by Papa Legba and the state of Louisiana, I now pronounce ya'll husband and wife."

They did a hasty maneuver, using Pride's back as a desk to sign the marriage license while Lucy simultaneously hurried the cheering and then quickly sobered 'dearly beloved' out the door.

"Thank you Madame Deveaux," Merri managed to call out as the VooDoo priestess was also herded out of the delivery room along with the senior agent, promising she'd stick around to bless the baby, which Merri admittedly had mixed feelings about. Although the contraction wasn't feeling so bad. And she knew she had the Voo Doo Queen to thank, at least in part. The euphoria of finally being really and truly married to the man she loved seemed to dull the sharpness of the pain. She had to hand it to Chris. He sure knew how to fill her with endorphins.

* * *

Chris LaSalle had left the earth behind. There was no other place he could possibly be at the moment than Cloud 9. He'd admittedly lived a pretty blessed life, family dysfunction aside. Had his childhood been picture-perfect? No. But he had been happy and loved. He'd found a second family, a real sort of father-figure providing unwavering loyalty and support in Dwayne Pride. And then he'd met Merri. Falling in love with her had been unexpected. But wonderful.

Yet, this was _the_ happiest he had ever been in his entire life, watching his _wife_ cradling their newborn son to her breast, looking quite exhausted and yet glowing at the same time. She had never been so beautiful.

He told her so, earning that rare shy blush from her, before she continued to stroke their infant son's cheek with the careful caress of a delicate fingertip. She was obviously totally enamored. And Chris couldn't blame her. But after the doctor had come in to check up on mother and baby, Merri had handed off the infant into Chris' eager (and a little nervous) arms to greet his father, with only a small sign of reluctance. God love her, she just might make a mama's boy out of their son.

And again, he couldn't blame the boy for lovin' his mama. Merri was going to be a fantastic one. Sweet when needed, strict when it was required. She'd gotten his ass in line for sure. She was just damned perfect. Never in a million years would he have chosen any other woman to have his babies. Or his heart.

"Ya ready fer some comp'ny?" he asked, swiping a lock of hair from where it had stuck to her sweat-slicked forehead and tucking it behind her ear.

"Y-" Her response ended in a yawn. She had to be absolutely exhausted. They'd moved her into the recovery room to spend a little more bonding time with her newborn, give breast-feeding a try. It had seemed to go pretty well. But what did Chris know about it. Well, besides all of the literature Merri had made him read and the numerous baby-related discussions they'd had. Honestly, he had sort of tuned a lot of it out. Okay, not purposefully. It just blended all together into one huge knot of anxiety. Merri was the rock, despite the one facing the actual birthing process. He'd been the one freaking out inside. And outside.

"Yes," she finished, looking up at him with affection. Well, at least the hatred she'd temporarily possessed for his person had seemed to pass. Maybe she hadn't been serious when she'd vowed to never let him touch her again, let alone knock her up.

"Mebbe I should jus' tell 'em ta go," he said. "An' they can visit the babe an' ya when ya get settled in at home."

She frowned. "No. They were here to support me, _us_. And help you fulfill my crazy request."

They smiled at each other. He wasn't sure what was a bigger rush. Becoming a parent or becoming an officially recognized husband.

"And I want our son to meet his family."

Chris felt his grin broaden further, making his cheeks begin to ache. He'd been smiling like a fool for well over an hour now.

"Alright," he said in a faux stern voice. "But as yer husban' I'm tellin' ya ta make it brief."

Already skilled in the ways of motherhood despite only being one for less than two hours, she managed to smoothly shift her sleeping baby to free an arm to smack him in the chest. But she was still smiling.

Chris let their friends in, deciding all-at-once for just a couple of minutes would be more efficient than one or two at a time drawing out the visitation for nearly half an hour when Merri needed to sleep. And then maybe he'd hold his baby boy while they both slept, rather than let the nurses' whisk the infant off to cry under the fluorescent lights with the rest of his peers.

Pride was rightfully at the head of the largish group that poured into the room, drawing a nurse's attention so that Chris had to sweet-talk her into not enforcing room capacity rules. They'd all stuck around, Loretta, Sebastian, Patton, Laurel and even Percy who being their newest member had the least invested in the odd little family. And Madame Deveaux, too. Taking awhile to get their mother packed up (she didn't get out much), his own family was still on their way. Hopefully, Merri would be able to get in at least an hour before Cade and Cassie showed up with his mama to meet the newest LaSalle.

But for now...

Merri shifted, sitting up a little straighter in her bed and angling the newborn away from where he'd been cuddled up to her chest so that their friends- _family_ could see his adorable little pink wrinkled face.

"Chris and I would like you all to meet Henry..." She glanced at her husband, and then at Pride. "Henry King LaSalle."

Pride's eyebrows shot up as he was caught off guard before he chuckled and shook his head, squeezing his surrogate son's shoulder.

"S'rry, King," Chris said, chuckling a little himself. "Merri nixed 'Dwayne'."

"Hey!" Merri said loudly and then swore quietly as the infant woke and began to fuss. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "You agreed with me that it didn't sound right. No offense, Pride."

"None taken," he said. "I'm honored."

He leaned over to offer the infant his finger, smiling at his sort-of-roundabout namesake. "Nice to meet you, little man."

"He's beautiful," Loretta said when it was her turn to get an up close and personal look. Chris could swear there was a gleam of wetness in the sweet woman's eyes as she hugged and congratulated him. The others were a little more reserved, but offered sincere congratulations and wishes of happiness and health, before Chris finally shoved them out the door. He did invite Madame Deveaux to bless the baby, and he wasn't sure if it was out of respect or fear that he and Merri were genuinely solicitous of the unconventional blessing. He thought it was mostly gratitude that she'd been in the hospital visiting a sick member of her church and had been willing to perform their marriage ceremony. Chris was uncertain how to express his gratitude, however, besides saying 'thank you' so he ended up telling the woman if she ever needed anything not to hesitate to call on him. She smiled, hugged him, gave Merri a motherly caress on the cheek and disappeared.

He looked at his baby boy. Well, it certainly was an interesting way to start off life, he supposed.

"I'll take 'im," he said holding out his arms to Merri. She looked both bereft and relieved when she settled Henry into his arms. It didn't take her long to drift off however, leaving Chris to sit in the very convenient (thank you hospital staff) rocking chair, cradling his infant son to his chest, watching his beautiful wife looking like an angel as she slept.

His heart felt like it was too large for his chest to contain. And a tear of joy trickled down his cheek.

He had a wife. And a son.

He had a family. And it was true love.

* * *

 **A/N: And there's the sappy conclusion of this Cherri tale! Hope you all enjoyed!**


End file.
